


One of a Kind

by vinegar-and-glitter (vinegarandglitter)



Series: One of a Kind [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Clones, Alternate Universe - Connor Murphy Lives (Dear Evan Hansen), Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Body Horror, Clones, Conspiracy, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Not a Crossover, Recreational Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, weird science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-03-27 09:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 100
Words: 265,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegarandglitter/pseuds/vinegar-and-glitter
Summary: THEN: On the day Connor Murphy decides to kill himself, he runs into a stranger with his face and finds his plans changing drastically.NOW: At the beginning of Evan Hansen’s third year of college, he runs into his fake dead best friend from high school - or at least someone who looks just like him.A Dear Evan Hansen/Orphan Black AU.





	1. THEN

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I blame @chchchchcherrybomb and the fact that I SIMPLY CANNOT RESIST AN AU OR CROSSOVER IN ANY FORM.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance meeting at the park at midnight sets the tale in motion.

There’s a bottle in the pocket of Connor Murphy’s hoodie. His hands are also in his pocket, and he’s grasping the pill bottle, trying to minimize the rattling sound it makes as he walks through the park as midnight approaches.

 

He’s weirdly paranoid that the sound of the pills rattling is making too much noise and someone’s going to come along and arrest him for disturbing the peace or some bullshit.

 

That probably isn’t going to happen, but who knows? He’s really fucking high right now.

 

It’s colder than it should be for September, and he’s been walking for longer than he can remember. His parents had confiscated his car keys after they caught him smoking on the roof the week before school started, so he’d just… walked. And kept walking.

 

Sure, he’d thought about just taking one of the cars and either stealing keys or just hotwiring it, he guesses, but it seemed kind of rude.

 

You know, seeing as he was headed to the park to kill himself. Making someone in his family have to retrieve a car on top of identifying his dead body just seems like a step too far right now. For some reason.

 

Plus, he’s never hotwired a car.

 

He idly thinks to himself that there’s a lot of things he’s going to die never having done.

 

There’s a piece of paper in the pocket of Connor Murphy’s hoodie, printed at the school computer lab by a kid he barely knows, taken in a moment of anger, then carefully folded and put away.

 

But he’s not thinking about that right now.

 

He’s thinking about the fact that he might be stoned out of his mind, but he’s ninety percent sure that the lanky kid sitting on the park bench in front of him has his face.

 

* * *

 

Benjamin Childs is exhausted.

 

Exhausted to his very core.

 

He’s sitting cross-legged on a park bench in a town he doesn’t know, having spent the day following a kid he doesn’t know, trying to figure out if he’s ready to know the truth.

 

Ben’s known the truth for awhile now and he still doesn’t think he’s ready.

 

The rest of the group don’t know he’s here. He’s been marking people off the list over the last few weeks of summer, driving from town to town, just to get a glimpse of the familiar faces.

 

The faces just like his.

 

Yet he hasn’t approached any of them. He hasn’t brought them into the fold. Because that would mean he was responsible for them. And that’s not something he can handle right now.

 

He wishes he didn’t know any of this.

 

He wishes he’d never found out about the clones.

 

He wishes it could all just be over.

 

And Ben’s always been good at getting what he wished for.

 

There’s a bottle of pills in the pocket of Benjamin Childs’ blazer.

 

It’s empty.

 

He’s washed them all down with a black coffee from the drive-through at McDonald’s.

 

Now he’s just waiting.

 

Life is getting soft around the edges, but he’s ninety percent sure there’s someone walking toward him.

 

Someone with a face he knows too well.

 

* * *

 

“I must be higher than I thought.”

 

The kid with his face kind of laughs at that. His eyes are dark and sad and unfocused, and Connor doesn’t just recognize the patch of brown in the corner.

 

He recognizes _everything_.

 

Sure, there are differences. This kid’s got that hipster haircut that’s popular these days - kind of short at the edges but a bit of volume at the top. He clearly puts a lot more effort into his appearance than Connor ever has - there’s definitely a hair product situation going on. He’s wearing a navy blue blazer over a charcoal colored shirt, along with black skinny jeans that are more or less exactly what Connor’s wearing, except that instead of boots, this guy’s wearing loafers.

 

He’s a hell of a lot more put together than Connor, that’s for sure. Not that it’s something Connor’s ever really cared about, but… well… it’s surreal.

 

This kid has his face. His nose. His mouth. His eyes, right down to the dark bags underneath. Connor looks at his hands and sees that he even has the mole on his right thumb. Left thumb. Right thumb? He’s not sure which is left and which is right at this point, but the point is - the mole matches.

 

Everything matches.

 

He’s _definitely_ high.

 

“Connor Murphy,” the kid with his face says, with a smile devoid of happiness. “I should have known I wouldn’t be alone. Even now.”

 

“You look like me,” Connor says, without really meaning to.

 

“I’m Ben,” the kid offers. “Ben Childs. Came here looking for you, actually.”

 

Connor frowns. “Why?”

 

“You’re one of us,” Ben says simply. “It’s not just me, it’s not just you - it’s… fuck, I don’t know how many of us are out there. We’re trying to find out. I mean, they’re trying to find out. I’m not… I’m already gone.”

 

“What the fuck?”

 

Ben kind of laughs. “Clones. We’re clones. Some kind of weird science experiment, I don’t know. We’re just lab rats, I guess. They let us loose, let us see what would happen. They let you loose here, they let me loose in New York, and they’re watching us. To see what decisions we make. How we react.”

 

Connor’s brain kind of catches on one part of that sentence. “You’re from New York?”

 

Ben nods. “New York City.”

 

“Better than here,” Connor points out. “Anywhere’s better than here.”

 

“You’re welcome to it,” says Ben, shrugging off his blazer despite the chill of the evening. “You’re welcome to all of it, actually.” He hands over his blazer to Connor, who looks at it blankly.

 

“Why are you giving me this?”

 

“You hate your life,” Ben says, leaning down to take off his shoes. “Have mine. I don’t want it anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Ben’s starting to feel nauseous and dizzy and his vision is swimming, but he’s determined to get this done. To see this through.

 

Connor’s staring at him in confusion once he gets his shoes off and Ben kind of wants to laugh, but thinks he might vomit if he does.

 

“I don’t know what you’re doing, dude,” Connor says finally. “Put your fucking shoes back on.”

 

“You hate your life,” Ben repeats. “I watched you today. You hate your family, you hate your school, you pushed some kid with a cast on his arm because you thought he laughed at you… you hate it here.”

 

“I came here to kill myself,” Connor says flatly. It’s too blunt, Ben thinks to himself. It’s too honest, but then again, what’s the point in lying to someone who’s got your face? Isn’t it just lying to yourself?

 

“Too late,” Ben says. “I already called dibs.” He shows Connor the empty bottle of sleeping pills and shakes it to show it’s empty. “I took them all. It won’t be long now.”

 

To be honest, he feels weirdly smug about this.

 

Connor’s eyes widen and a flash of terror flies across his face. He reaches into his pocket but Ben manages to grab his arm before he can. “I need to call you an ambulance,” Connor says firmly, stepping back and pulling out his phone.

 

“You need to give me your hoodie,” Ben says, just as blunt as Connor’s earlier confession.  He thinks for a moment. “And your shoes.”

 

“Why are you doing this?” Connor demands, terror still all over his face. He’s got his phone out again, and Ben should take it off him, but Connor’s hands are shaking so much that Ben’s fairly certain it’s not going to be a problem.

 

“Because it’s too much,” Ben confesses. Because what’s the point of lying to yourself? Especially when you’re this close to the end? “Everything is too much. There’s the paper and school and college and Phillipa and Jerome and clone club and the murders and the illness and it’s… too much. And they want me to be strong but I… I’ve never been strong.”

 

“Hey,” Connor says sharply, kneeling down and putting his hand on Ben’s shoulder. The gesture’s oddly comforting. Ben thinks about Jerome for a moment, then pushes the thought from his mind as fast as he can. “You need to let me help you. At the very least you need to stay alive to fucking explain why we look the same.”

 

He’s overcome by a rush of nausea, then leans over and throws up all over Connor’s hoodie. Connor jerks back in disgust and Ben wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shivering slightly. It’s cold. It’s so cold.

 

Ben’s got a plan, though. “Give me your hoodie,” he says, trying to inject as much authority into his voice as he can with his throat on fire, his vision blurring and his heart racing like a freight train. “And your shoes. Then take my car and go to New York. Password for the green phone in blazer’s left pocket is 1908, the black one doesn’t have a lock. Keys are in my bag, it’s just next to me. The car’s parked around the corner to the left. Red Prius. In the green phone, call Torpedo. He’ll tell you what’s going on.”

 

Connor stares at him for a moment, then wordlessly starts to unlace his boots.

  
Ben lets out a sigh of relief.

 

* * *

 

Ben’s visibly shivering as he shrugs on Connor’s hoodie. Connor puts on Ben’s blazer in a daze, not really sure what he’s doing or why he’s humoring this kid who shares both his face and his death wish.

 

He’s still got his own phone in his hand and suddenly comes back to himself.

 

This is bullshit and he has to do something.

 

He dials 911, only for Ben to lunge at him again and push the phone out of his hand, sending it plummeting to the ground.

 

“I’m not just going to let you fucking die in front of me,” Connor vows, scrambling for the phone and picking it up. The screen’s cracked and the call hasn’t gone through.

 

Then Ben collapses to the ground and starts seizing.

 

Connor’s paralyzed with fear and horror at the sight.

 

Fuck, Ben looks just like him.

 

It’s almost like he’s watching himself.

 

No, it’s exactly like watching himself.

 

He’s watching himself die.

 

Connor doesn’t even realize he’s dropped his phone again until he hears yet another crack. Everything’s dim and hazy and he can hear his heart beating louder than he ever has.

 

Then Ben stops moving.

 

And Connor is standing over the body, trying to make sense of it all.

 

Everything is deathly still for a long moment.

 

Connor picks up Ben’s shoes and messenger bag.

 

He looks down at Ben, lying still by the park bench near a trash can and the first of the falling leaves. Now that Ben’s wearing his hoodie, the differences between them are less apparent.

 

Aside from the haircut, anyone looking would swear it was Connor’s body.

 

Connor realizes with a jolt just what Ben was trying to say.

 

This is his chance to disappear.

 

To start over.

 

He feels like there’s something he should say or do here, looking down at the dead body of his double. His… clone? Is that what Ben had said?

 

Some kind of goodbye.

 

Connor lets out a deep breath, closes his eyes and takes a moment.

 

“Goodbye, Connor Murphy.”

 

Then he leaves the park without looking back.

 


	2. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new beginning brings back a blast from the past.

Three years ago, Evan Hansen would have spent a good twenty minutes psyching himself up to walk into his first class of the new semester. He would have woken up early, got to campus at least an hour before class started because he was afraid he’d get lost and then be late and everyone would look at him, and found himself sitting around like an idiot then worrying that people were looking at him and thinking he was weird for being there early and it would have just continued on like that into a Mobius strip of complete and utter panic.

 

So he’s pretty pleased with himself when he arrives on campus, finds his class within five minutes and walks in with ten minutes to spare with very little psyching up necessary.

 

He’s come a long way from senior year of high school.

 

He doesn’t necessarily like to think about senior year of high school because he still feels like he cheated, somehow.

 

Being mistaken for a dead kid’s best friend had pulled him out from the shadows and made people notice him. Helped him break out of his shell. Helped him step into the sun.

 

He probably spends too much time beating himself up over it, but he still thinks it’s supremely unfair. He still feels guilty about his part in it.

 

He thinks about Alana’s insistence they start a memorial movement for Connor, and how it fizzled out when she stumbled upon ‘technical difficulties’ (among other things, but that’s the only thing he’s going to think about, because if he thinks about the fact that he’d convinced himself back then he was being haunted he’s going to lose his mind). If The Connor Project had gotten off the ground - well, chances are it would have spiraled out of control.

 

Chances are he wouldn’t have gotten away with it.

 

But here he is, three years later, and no one’s the wiser that he doesn’t actually have a dead best friend. He’s still in touch with the Murphys - Cynthia insisted on having him around for dinner every month or so when he was still living at home attending community college, and once he got over his painful crush on Zoe they’d actually become genuinely good friends.

 

They still don’t know he never really knew Connor.

 

Every now and then, the urge to tell them rises up in him, like he’s a cat coughing up a hairball, and he has to sit down and take deep breaths and remind himself that telling them now wouldn’t help anyone.

 

The Murphys took comfort in the fact that Connor had someone. And even though it was all a lie, Evan took comfort in that, too. Because people thinking he had a friend… it helped. It helped him feel less alone. And not feeling alone had given him the confidence to move forward. To connect with people.

 

If it weren’t for Connor, he probably wouldn’t be where he is today - a transfer student at a real, honest to god college. Not a community college, but a proper college, with a great environmental science department and everything he needs to help work toward his dream career. He’d worked part-time throughout community college, scrimped and saved, and finally made enough to support himself through junior and senior year.

 

And the fact that he can actually walk into a classroom without agonizing about whether he’s ridiculously early or ridiculous late or wearing the wrong thing and people are going to laugh at him… well, that’s a combination of therapy and medication and time, sure, but…

 

He’s still grateful to Connor.

 

He’s still grateful for what their fake friendship helped him achieve.

 

Evan thinks about Connor Murphy a lot. He thinks about how he must have felt to end things. He thinks about how felt during that long, lonely summer between junior and senior year, and how if he’d fallen from that tree just a little differently, he wouldn’t be here today.

 

He finds himself wondering, more than he should, if he could have been friends with Connor.

 

Real friends.

 

He thinks he would have liked that.

 

The lecturer starts talking. Evan pulls out a textbook from his bag and hears the chair next to him scrape across the floor, indicating someone’s sitting beside him. He gets a glimpse of pink hair and a brightly patterned colored coat, as well as something oddly familiar he can’t quite place, but the person next to him is looking through their own bag and he doesn’t want to be rude, so he focuses his attention back on the lecturer.

 

He’s quickly engrossed in the subject matter - this particular paper is on applied terrestrial biology, which is something he’s always found fascinating, and he soon finds himself in the familiar swing of note-taking. Evan appreciates the lecturer’s enthusiasm and obvious knowledge of his topic, and the class is over before he knows it.

 

Evan’s packing up his textbook when the person next to him taps him on the shoulder lightly.

 

“Hey, sorry to be super weird,” the person says apologetically, “but I couldn’t help but notice you’re, like, a legend at note taking.”

 

Evan completely loses track of what this person is saying the minute he lays eyes on them because, not for the first time in his life, he finds himself gripped with the conviction that he’s seen a ghost.

 

Because the person sitting next to him looks exactly like Connor Murphy.

 

“You okay, dude?” says the pink-haired, pierced, possible ghost of Connor Murphy. “You’re kinda…”

 

“Connor?”

 

“Um, who?”

 

Evan’s brain is working overtime, trying to reconcile whatever the hell is going on. Because he knows that face. He’s seen so many pictures of that face. And yeah, the hair’s different, and Evan’s pretty sure Connor wouldn’t be caught dead wearing what could probably be used as a costume in a punk dystopian retelling of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but… that face.

 

The nose. The mouth. The eyes - down to the mismatched color.

 

“You just…” Evan’s searching for the words. “You look a lot like someone I used to know.”

 

Pink-haired Not-Connor’s eyes widen, and he lets out a laugh that’s… weirdly nervous. “Wow, that’s super trippy.” He kind of runs his hand over the side of his head, which is closely shaved, and the pink part on top flops over his eyes. Then he extends his hand toward Evan. “Reed Albrecht.”

 

“Evan Hansen,” Evan replies, automatically taking Reed’s hand and shaking it.

 

He’s almost sure that Reed pales slightly. But not sure enough to comment on it.

 

“Cool,” Reed says with a nod, brimming with a weird, nervous energy. “Uh…”

 

“You were saying something about my notes?” Evan says in a rush, trying to calm the pounding of his heart and the voice in his head that is still completely freaking out (and well done him for not running out screaming, because he definitely wouldn’t have dealt with running into Connor Murphy’s artpunk doppelganger three years ago).

 

“Oh yeah,” Reed says, relaxing a little. “So I’m kinda… I don’t do great with notes, because I’m dyslexic, so I take, like, audio recordings of lectures on my phone. But I noticed that you’re a great note taker and I thought that maybe we could study together? They say this class is pretty intense.”

 

“That would be cool,” Evan finds himself agreeing, even though there’s a part of him that never wants to lay eyes on this face ever again. But then again… this guy clearly isn’t Connor. Because Connor’s six feet underground, miles away back home. Not just bones yet, because a body takes up to 12 years to decompose, but still… definitely not entirely flesh and blood anymore.

 

Evan closes his eyes for a minute and tries to shake away thoughts of Connor Murphy, rotting in the ground.

 

“Are you okay?” Reed asks.

 

“Yeah,” Evan lies, trying to look like he’s not thinking about a rotting corpse. Before he can stop himself, he’s blurting out what he’s trying not to think about. “It’s just that the person who kind of looks like you that I was telling you about? He’s dead, so it’s just… it’s weird. Like you’re a ghost or something. I mean, I know you’re not a ghost, although I don’t necessarily know everything about ghosts so it’s not impossible, I guess, and even though I’m technically a scientist I don’t think I can ever know everything and there are some things that can’t be explained, but I don’t think you’re a ghost.”

 

“I don’t think I’m a ghost either,” says Reed, who looks more than slightly stunned at the speed in which Evan’s just rambled, and dammit, he was supposed to be getting better at this sort of thing. “I’m, uh, sorry about your friend.”

 

“We weren’t friends,” Evan blurts out. “I mean, we weren’t… not friends, but… we weren’t… it was complicated, people thought we were friends and I just… let them think that because his parents were so sad, and they thought he was alone, and it was… it was weird, this is weird, I shouldn’t be telling you this, you are literally the only person who knows that we weren’t… friends.”

 

“You weren’t friends,” Reed repeats, nodding a little to himself. “But everyone thought you were?”

 

“You must think I’m such a freak, oh my god.”

 

“I don’t think that,” Reed says kindly. “I think that… look, I think there’s another lecture in here soon, so… do you want a cup of coffee or something?”

 

That’s how Evan finds himself sitting under a tree near the science building, drinking coffee and confessing the whole sad story about his senior year of high school to the pink-haired doppelganger of his fake dead best friend.

 

It’s weirdly cathartic, and by the time they’re done with their coffee and he’s off to his next lecture, Evan’s almost convinced himself that Reed’s resemblance to Connor is just pure coincidence.

 

Almost.

 

\---

 

Group chat: **pinkpunk** , **soccer_guy** , **emochilds** , **torpeedo**

 

 **pinkpunk** : connor theres a kid from your old hs in my bio class

 **emochilds** : wtf?

 **torpeedo** : shit no way

 **pinkpunk** : yea he freaked out when he saw me

 **pinkpunk** : but i convinced him its coincidence

 **torpeedo** : name?

 **torpeedo** : ill make sure hes not looking up anything weird online

 **pinkpunk** : evan hansen

 **soccer_guy** : isn’t he the one from senior year you mentioned?

 **emochilds** : shit

 **emochilds** : hansen

 **emochilds** : fuck

 **pinkpunk** : its not like hes gonna automatically think clones

 **pinkpunk** : ill keep an eye on him

 **soccer_guy** : so he’s the same guy from senior year?

 **emochilds** : yes

 **soccer_guy** : great, just what we need right now

 **emochilds** : stfu lucas

 **torpeedo** : hacked into his computer

 **torpeedo** : browsing history ahs nothing abt clones

 **torpeedo** : lots about trees tho

 **emochilds** : reed is right hes not gonna assume clones straight up

 **torpeedo** : oh look hes on your fb page con

 **torpeedo** : goin thru ur photos

 **emochilds** : shit

 **pinkpunk** : that makes sense tho yea?

 **soccer_guy** : at least Reed looks totally different to the rest of us

 **pinkpunk** : ye i have a sense of faashion

 **Emochilds** : u dress like someone vomited fruit loops on you

 **pinkpunk** : green isnt ur color con

 **Emochilds** : fuck off

 **soccer_guy** : I’m serious, though? Reed’s style means it’s easier to pass off as a weird coincidence, right?

 **torpeedo** : ill keep an eye on him

 **pinkpunk** : yea me too

 **emochilds** : just dont be weird about it

 **pinkpunk** : hes a cool guy, its chill

 **pinkpunk** : reckon we could be friends

 **torpeedo** : just dnt let him tag u in fb or insta

 **pinkpunk** : omg we no to avoid that

 **emochilds** : i think its weird you wanna be friends with my fake best friend

 **pinkpunk** : jealous murphy?

 **emochilds** : fuck offf

 **soccer_guy** : just be careful, okay guys?

 **pinkpunk** : yes mom

 **torpeedo** : yes mom

 **emochilds** : yes mom

 **emochilds** : lol

 **emochilds** : we didnt practice that

 **pinkpunk** : just happened naturally

 **soccer_guy** : I hate you all

 


	3. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets another familiar face. And another. And another.

Connor’s been driving for nearly an hour when he realizes he has absolutely no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

 

Well, he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing in this specific situation. The feeling of having no idea what the fuck he’s doing isn’t exactly an unfamiliar one, but this particular situation is.

 

One minute he’s going to a park to kill himself, the next he’s watching someone who looks exactly like him get there first, then taking his bag and his shoes and his car and driving somewhere in the direction of New York.

 

He pulls over to the side of the road and pulls the green phone from out of the pocket of the blazer he’s still wearing, even though it feels overly dressy and weird and decidedly Not Connor.

 

Then again, he’s not really Connor anymore, is he?

 

It takes him a minute to remember the passcode, but it eventually comes back - 1908. He enters it in, scrolls through the contacts until he finds the name Ben mentioned.

 

Torpedo.

 

What the fuck kind of name is Torpedo?

 

He hits the call button and waits.

 

“So now you wanna talk,” comes the sarcastic response as the call connects. “Last time I called you told me to leave you the fuck alone. What the hell, man?”

 

“Ben told me to call you,” Connor says helplessly. “I… I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, dude.”

 

There’s silence on the other line for a moment, then a sharp intake of breath. “Who is this?”

 

“My name’s Connor.”

 

“Connor Murphy?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“This is Ben’s phone, though,” says ‘Torpedo’. “This is his number. Let me talk to him. What the fuck.”

 

“He’s dead.”

 

Absolute dead silence.

 

Connor’s sure this guy’s going to hang up.

 

And he can’t fucking let that happen.

 

“He killed himself right in front of me,” Connor continues, words coming out in a rush. “Told me he didn’t want his life. Gave me his phone and his bag and his car and his fucking passcode and told me to call you. And… fuck, his shoes and his jacket, and he took mine, and now there’s a dead body on a park bench in my hometown that looks just like me, and… I don’t know what to do.”

 

“He killed himself.” The voice on the other end of the line is small and young all of a sudden. “Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck. Ben, what the fuck?”

 

“I tried to help,” Connor insists. “I did, I was just… I freaked out and he was so determined and now… fuck. You’ve gotta help me out, man. I need to know what the fuck is going on.”

 

“I’ll text you my address and we can talk properly,” says Torpedo, voice a little raw. “I just… okay, you’re like an hour’s drive from where I am, I can tell by your phone.”

 

“You’re tracking my phone?”

 

“I’ll explain everything, just get here.”

 

The call disconnects and Connor stares at his phone for a moment. The screen dims, then lights up again with a text from Torpedo with an address.

 

Connor clumsily plugs the address into the phone’s GPS system. Then he starts driving.

 

It’s nearly 3 am by the time he gets to a nondescript house where he’ll apparently find this Torpedo, whoever he is. From his voice, he sounds… young. Connor’s age. And familiar.

 

He remembers Ben’s words.

 

_It’s not just me, it’s not just you - I don’t know how many of us are out there._

 

So when he texts to tell Torpedo he’s arrived, he’s not actually that surprised when the face at his window a few minutes later looks exactly like his.

 

Connor gets out of the car and, for the second time that evening, comes face to face with himself.

 

“So you’re Torpedo,” Connor says, not for the first time wondering if his dealer sold him some fucked up weed and this whole thing is just a super intense trip.

 

“And you’re Connor Murphy,” Torpedo replies, kind of looking him up and down.

 

“Your name’s not actually Torpedo, is it?”

 

The kid laughs at that and shakes his head. “Not my given name, no, but who wants to admit their parents named them Marvin?”

 

Connor doesn’t mean to laugh at that but finds he can’t help himself. “Shit.”

 

“Fucking hell, this never gets less weird,” Torpedo - Marvin - confesses, running his hands through a mop of unruly curls. He’s wearing glasses with thick square frames, sweatpants and a ridiculous hoodie that’s covered in tiny Pacman figures. But it’s still definitely the same face - maybe a touch more acne, maybe the angles of his face a little softer, but still a face he recognizes.

 

“Ben said something about clones,” Connor says finally. “What the fuck.”

 

“It’s freezing out here,” Torpedo says, shivering a little. “Come inside, we’ll talk.”

 

There’s a side entrance to the bottom story of the house, and from the looks of things, this is his second doppelganger’s inner sanctum. The whole place reeks of old socks and weed. There’s a bed in the corner of the room, but there’s also a couch and a coffee table in front of a massive television, complete with gaming consoles. Marvin - no, that’s fucking ridiculous, Connor decides, he’s just gonna call him Torpedo - gestures toward the couch and Connor sits down, letting out a deep breath and running his hands through his long hair.

 

“You’re gonna need to cut that if you’re going to be Ben.”

 

Connor scowls. “Fuck off.”

 

Torpedo raises his hands in mock surrender. “I mean, it’s up to you. If you want to go back to your life, we can… fuck, I don’t know, try to figure things out. Tell Ben’s parents, send them to ID the body.”

 

“My hoodie and phone are both with his body,” Connor points out. “And my shoes.”

 

Torpedo looks horribly sad for a moment, before kind of nodding. “He clearly thought this through. Fuck.” He looks directly at Connor. “What do you want to do?”

 

“I have no fucking clue.”

 

“Wanna get high?”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

Connor wakes up to the sound of voices and can’t actually remember having gone to sleep. Everything’s kind of fuzzy and he has no fucking clue where he is, but there’s a blanket on him and he’s warm and clearly indoors, so it can’t be all that bad.

 

The events of the previous night come back to him with a jolt and he sits up in panic.

 

“What the fuck?”

 

“Oh hey, you’re up,” says Torpedo, perched on the edge of the couch, laptop in hand. “Reed, Lucas, meet Connor.”

 

“What the _fuck_?”

 

Torpedo turns the laptop toward Connor. There on the screen are two boxes, each containing a video of a teenage boy with their face.

 

“How do we know he didn’t kill Ben?” asks the guy on the left. He’s got closely cropped hair - a little shorter than Ben’s, more preppy than hipster. He’s wearing a letterman jacket and a disapproving look.

 

“I didn’t fucking kill anyone,” Connor snaps. “I still don’t even know what the fuck is going on, I just got dragged into this shitstorm. Whatever it is. Clones and shit. That’s not even fucking possible.”

 

“Of course it’s possible,” says the guy on the left, his expression animated. He’s got pink hair with shaved sides, is wearing bright green eyeshadow and has a pierced lip. He’s wearing what looks like a paisley shawl and has an honest to god feather dangling from one of his ears. “Cloning already exists, we know it’s scientifically possible. With the right technology and financing, it’s completely possible that clandestine cloning has already started. The issue would be about ethics.”

 

“We’re not here to discuss ethics, Reed,” guy on the left says snidely. “We’ve got to figure out what to do here. Ben’s dead and… what, this guy is supposed to take his place? Is that what we’re supposed to let happen? Because that’s completely insane.”

 

Connor’s this close to just screaming at this stupid preppy asshole when Torpedo passes him the joint he hadn’t even realized he was smoking. Connor sighs, then takes a hit.

 

“Unbelievable,” says Preppy Asshole. “Another stoner burnout. Just what we need.”

 

“Hey, I am a motherfucking delight and you’d be lost without me,” says Torpedo with a wink. Preppy Asshole scowls. “And if there were ever a situation that calls for getting baked, it’d be finding out you’re a clone, am I right?”

 

“There’s no way this guy’s going to be able to pass as Ben,” says Preppy Asshole. “Even if I’m willing to believe that Ben actually… killed himself, he can’t possibly think that this guy’s going to be able to replace him. And why would he want him to, anyway?”

 

“I don’t know,” Torpedo confesses. “But for some reason, he did, and he swapped clothes and a phone with Connor, and he died in Connor’s hometown. By now, they’ve probably found the body and they’ll have no reason to ID it as Benjamin Childs. By now they’ve probably been in touch with Connor’s family. What are we going to do, send Connor back to traumatize his family? There’ll be questions. About why the bodies look the same. What if it exposes human cloning? What will happen to us then?”

 

“What’s so bad about exposing human cloning?” says Preppy Asshole. “Reed’s always on about how it’s a scientific advancement or something. People find out we’re clones, so what?”

 

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a lab?” Torpedo snaps. “Besides, they’ve kept this under wraps for so long. We’ve gone most of our lives completely unaware. There’s got to be a reason for it and I don’t want to find out what happens if we go public. Not while we’re still all under 18.”

 

“So I guess I’m being Ben,” Connor says, finally inserting himself into the conversation. “What’s he like? From the blazer and the haircut, I’m guessing he’s some kind of hipster.”

 

“Yeah, you’re definitely gonna need a haircut,” Reed says with a nod. “Which is a shame - I like that length on us. Might consider it myself someday.”

 

“Ben’s certainly not a pothead,” says Preppy Asshole with a huff. (Connor kind of knows this guy’s name is Lucas from Torpedo’s introduction, but as far as Connor’s concerned he’s calling him Preppy Asshole until further notice). “He’s a journalist. Runs his school paper. That’s how he found all of us - journalism.”

 

“I can work with that,” Connor says. “I think. I mean, English is my best subject, so… I’ll just read some of his stuff, try to get his writing style down. I can definitely do that.”

 

“So you’re going to do this?” Torpedo asks, looking at Connor intently. “Once you get started, there’s no turning back.” He looks sympathetic, and it hits Connor just how weird it is to see a sympathetic expression on his own face. “You didn’t ask for any of this and I’m sorry.”

 

It could be a fresh start.

 

That’s a thought that’s way too fucking optimistic for someone who wanted to kill themselves the day before.

 

“What the hell,” Connor says with a shrug, taking another hit of the joint. “I guess I’ll be Benjamin Childs.”

 

“Good,” says Torpedo, looking at his phone. “Because I’ve been keeping tabs on the situation in your hometown and they’ve found the body of a teenage boy on a park bench. It won’t be long until Connor Murphy’s family think he’s dead.”

 

There’s a part of Connor that plummets at that thought.

 

But there’s another part that doesn’t care at all.

 

He’s not sure which one he’s more bothered by.

 


	4. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reed has unexpected visitors.

From a very young age, Reed Albrecht has always just kind of rolled with things.

 

The other kids in kindergarten think it’s weird Reed has two moms? Okay then. Reed isn’t bothered - their moms are cool, and have never given them any reason to think less of them, so why should Reed care what the kids in their kindergarten class have to say?

 

Middle school teachers get completely thrown off by Reed’s they/them pronouns? They’ll get there eventually, and it’s not like Reed has any real issue with being mistaken for a boy, they just don’t feel like one all the time.

 

Reed gets a weird message from some kid in New York who saw their picture in the local community paper and finds out they’re actually part of an illegal human cloning experiment? Not what they expected, but okay. A turn of events, sure, but an interesting one.

 

If Reed had a motto in life, it would probably be ‘roll with it’. Because that’s all you can do, really. Life’s going to happen, whether you like it or not.

 

So befriending the fake best friend of one of their clones doesn’t even really make a blip on Reed’s radar of weird. Evan’s a nice guy and he’s brilliant at terrestrial biology, which is a huge bonus because terrestrial biology is a paper that doesn’t really interest Reed in the slightest but they have to take it for degree requirement reasons, and they may be part of an illegal cloning experiment but they still want to fucking graduate. Maybe do their Masters or Ph.D. eventually.

 

After their conversation on the first day of class, Reed finds themself spending more and more time with Evan. As a transfer student, Evan doesn’t know a ton of people, so Reed introduces him to various other scientific types, and even though he’s a little awkward, he quickly warms up to a group of people with similar interests. They even bring Evan along to an LGBT+ club meeting after Reed discloses their pansexuality and Evan, slightly awkwardly, admits that he’s bisexual.

 

They learn a lot about Evan Hansen in the first month of the semester. He’s surprisingly funny, with a slightly sarcastic sense of humor, and really into the great outdoors, especially trees. He admits to Reed that he has a social anxiety disorder that used to be crippling to the point of near paralysis, and that things have improved for him drastically over the past three years. Reed’s no stranger to anxiety disorders - one of their moms still struggles with it - and Evan seems to appreciate their general unflappable-ness.

 

It’s kind of nice to have a friend outside of Clone Club, Reed thinks, even though technically Evan’s got his own Clone Club connections without even knowing it. And if Evan occasionally looks at them with this sad, haunted look when he thinks they’re not looking, they’re happy to ignore it because the last thing they need is to draw attention to the startling similarities between Reed Albrecht and the supposedly departed Connor Murphy.

 

Speaking of the supposedly departed Connor Murphy, Reed would really appreciate it if he wouldn’t keep showing up at their apartment, peppering them with questions about Evan Hansen.

 

“Look, dude, I don’t really know what you’re expecting me to say here,” Reed says, resisting the urge to roll their eyes as Connor helps himself to Reed’s recently cured weed stash. “He’s a cool dude, we hang out, there’s not much else to say. Of  _course_  I haven’t told him I’m your clone.”

 

“I just think it sucks that I barely know the guy, considering my family still think he’s my best friend,” says Connor, putting the weed in a baggie and slipping it into his blazer pocket. Reed’s always a little bit entertained by Connor’s fashion choices. These days he’s slipped into a mix between teenage Connor Murphy and teenage Ben Childs and Reed’s not actually sure he’s fully aware he’s done it.

 

Connor’s grown his hair out since cutting it when he took over Ben’s identity and it’s back to the length it was when they first met via Skype on Torpedo’s couch. Right now, it’s pulled back into a messy bun, and combined with a neatly trimmed beard that Reed has to admit is rather fetching on him. (Reed doesn’t think a beard would fit their aesthetic but one of the nice things about genetic identicals is that you don’t have to wonder what certain haircuts or styles would look like on you - you can just see it on your clones.)

 

Connor’s given up on Ben’s loafers and gone back to boots, but he’s keeping them in better condition these days, and while he’s still dedicated to his skinny jeans, he’s actually got a couple of pairs that don’t look like they’ve been dragged through a hedge. Instead of pairing blazers with dress shirts, a go-to look for high school Ben, college Connor tends to go for blazers and band t-shirts. The overall effect is a surprisingly put together look for a guy who had to be shown how to use hair gel.

 

Today he’s got on a Clash t-shirt, grey jeans, and…

 

“Hey, isn’t that my blazer?” Reed asks.

 

Connor blinks and looks down at the green velvet. “Oh yeah. Can I borrow this?”

 

Reed shrugs. “It’s a little straightlaced for me, why not.”

 

Connor snorts. “Probably the first time the word ‘straight’ has applied to either of us,” he quips, putting his hands in his pockets. Then he looks straight at Reed. “You’re not sleeping with Evan, are you?”

 

Reed rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, Connor.”

 

“That’s not a no.”

 

“No, I am not sleeping with your fake best friend who thinks you’re dead,” Reed says flatly. “Have a little faith in me.” Connor looks painfully relieved. Reed can’t quite resist messing with him. “He’s definitely good looking, though. He’s got that whole rugged outdoorsy thing going on these days - a bit of a step up from the polo shirts and khakis in high school, that’s for sure.”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Connor says, clearly lying through his teeth. “I don’t even really remember him from high school.”

 

“Yet you’re here every weekend, asking me questions about him,” Reed points out.

 

“I’m here every weekend for your pot, dude,” Connor counters stubbornly. “If I happen to want to keep tabs on a situation that definitely still concerns me, I’m completely within my rights to do so.”

 

“Bullshit,” says Reed cheerily, heading to the kitchenette. “I’ve been experimenting with cannabis tea. Do you want to try some?”

 

Connor shrugs. “Sure.” There’s a knock on the door. Connor and Reed exchange a look and Connor frowns. “You expecting someone?”

 

“No.” They go to the door and open it a fraction, then inwardly groans at the sight of their friend. “Evan, hi!”

 

“Sorry to just drop in like this,” Evan says nervously. “Are you busy? I can come back later, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

 

“Uh, I’m kind of…” Reed trails off as they takes in Evan’s appearance. His eyes are kind of bloodshot, and he’s playing with the edge of his shirt, twisting and tugging at the fabric. He doesn’t look great. “Are you okay?”

 

Evan’s eyes widen, and he chuckles nervously. “Uh, no? I just… sorry, this is a bad time, isn’t it? I’m really sorry, I just… I don’t really…”

 

“No, just give me two seconds,” Reed says in a hurry. “I just need to… stay there and I’ll be two seconds.” They hurriedly shut the door and turn to Connor. “Go hide in the bedroom, okay?”

 

“You sure you’re not gonna need it?” Connor says, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “I can just climb down the fire escape or something.”

 

“For fuck’s sake,” Reed groans. “He seems upset about something and he’s got a social anxiety disorder, I’m not just gonna kick him out. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

 

Connor looks concerned for a moment, then slips into Reed’s room and closes the door. Reed sighs, opens the front door and apologizes profusely as they let Evan in. Evan’s apologizing, they're apologizing, and it’s a mess of words until Evan finally sits on the couch and takes a deep breath.

 

“I’m really sorry to just barge in here like this,” Evan says in a rush.

 

“You’re fine,” Reed assures him. “What’s up?”

 

“It’s stupid,” he says, burying his face in his hands for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m freaking out like this, I’m so sorry to bother you.”

 

“Hey,” Reed says firmly. “We’re friends, dude. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Evan takes a deep breath. “Okay, so remember I told you about that guy Connor from high school?”

 

“I remember,” they reply, hoping like hell that Connor’s not listening in at the bedroom door right now but knowing for a fact he probably is. 

 

“His mom got in touch with me today,” Evan confesses. “It’s been just over 3 years since he died, and she wants to organize some kind of… public memorial. I told her all this stuff about this abandoned orchard, and… well… she’s got it in her head that the family should pay to reopen the orchard and dedicate it to Connor’s memory.”

 

“That’s intense,” says Reed. “How do you feel about it?”

 

“Awful.” Evan takes in a shaky breath. “We were never… we never went there together. I went there once, by myself, after graduating high school, and it was… it was definitely somewhere I would have wanted to go and spend time with… a friend. But I spun this whole story and now she’s convinced it’s a place where he was _happy_ , and she wants to remember him there, but she wants me to give the okay before doing anything and I just… I don’t know what to do.”

 

“That’s tough,” Reed says with a sigh.

 

They think they hear a noise from the bedroom and try not to react. Evan doesn’t seem to have noticed, thank God.  

 

“You think I should tell the truth, right?” Evan asks. There’s something desperate in his voice. “It’s been so long. They’ve healed, right? It wouldn’t… they’d… I mean, they’d  _hate_ me, and that’s… that’s what I deserve for lying for so long, but… Cynthia still sounded so sad when she called me.” Evan sniffs a little. “Cynthia is, uh, Connor’s mom.  _Was_  Connor’s mom. She was… really nice to me. I don’t want to cause her any more pain that she’s already been through.”

 

“I don’t think I can tell you what to do,” Reed says gently. “It’s a weird situation, and I don’t know that there’s really a right answer, you know? What’s done is done.” 

 

“I guess I just… I just wish I knew if Connor would have wanted it,” Evan says. He’s blinking an awful lot. “But I don’t know. I didn’t know him, I didn’t… and all of a sudden I’m a part of keeping his memory alive? It’s just… I want to do right by him but there’s no way I can do that, and it’s… it’s tough, because…” Evan takes a deep breath. “If it had been me who died in senior year, no one would have known how to keep my memory alive, either. Because no one knew me. I was so completely alone, and… even if it isn’t really real, I still think that no one deserves to be forgotten, you know? So…”

 

Reed doesn’t know what to say. The room is still. They gently touch Evan’s arm. “It’s a fucked up situation, but your heart’s in the right place, Evan,” they say quietly. “Whatever you decide… I’m sure Connor would understand.”

 

Evan nods and looks at his lap.

 

The moment is interrupted by a loud banging on the bedroom door. Evan practically yelps in surprise.

 

“Oi Reed!” shouts Connor Murphy from behind the door in the loudest, most ridiculous fake British accent Reed has ever heard in their life. “Come back to bed and shag me, you bloody wanker!”

 

Reed doesn’t think they've ever seen anyone as embarrassed as Evan Hansen looks right now. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Evan says, standing up and heading for the door. “I… shit, I didn’t know you… oh my god.”

 

The banging on the bedroom door continues and Reed takes a deep breath. “In a minute!” they yell. “Evan, it’s okay, you were upset and you needed to talk to someone.”

 

“If I’d know you had company-”

 

“I thought he was asleep,” Reed says hurriedly, hoping the lie holds. “I’m really sorry. Do you… did it feel better to talk a bit, at least?”

 

Evan hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it did.” He opens the front door then turns back to Reed, still bright red. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you on Monday. Sorry again. Tell your friend I’m really sorry, oh my god.”

 

Reed closes the front door with a decisive click, just as Connor opens the door to his bedroom. “What the actual fuck?”

 

“I didn’t want to hear all that shit about my family,” Connor says with a scowl.

 

“Yeah, well, you didn’t need to listen, did you?”

 

Connor sighs. “You said something about tea?”

 

Reed stares at him for a moment, then throws up their hands in resignation. “Alright.”

 

Ten minutes later they’re on the couch, drinking Reed’s latest batch of cannabis tea, and Connor lets out a shaky sigh. “I didn’t think they still cared.”

 

Reed blinks. “Connor, of course they do.”

 

“It’s been three years. My mom should be… she shouldn’t still be thinking about it, oh my god.”

 

“She’s a mother who lost a son,” Reed points out gently. “That’s never going to stop hurting.”

 

Connor’s expression darkens. “Thanks.”

 

Reed sighs. “Connor, I didn’t mean-”

 

“Tell him the orchard would be nice.”

 

Reed blinks again. “What?”

 

Connor sighs. “Tell Evan that you think Connor would have liked the idea of the orchard being reopened in his memory or some shit.” He takes a sip of his tea. “If it’d make my mom happy… it’s the least I can do.”

 

Reed still doesn’t know what to say, so they sip their tea, close their eyes and lean back against the couch.

 


	5. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torpedo takes charge. Connor gets a haircut.

Marvin ‘Torpedo’ Adams considers himself a fairly logical, organized person. He likes knowing things. He likes having a plan. He likes information and facts. Not to say that he can’t roll with the punches when the weird shit goes down, but… he’s the information guy. He’s the one who hacks into servers and finds things out, who investigates and uncovers things.

 

Torpedo’s not the one who takes charge and makes decisions.

 

That’s Ben’s job.

 

But Ben’s dead.

 

Ben was the leader, the driving force behind Clone Club. While Reed geeked out over scientific advancement and Lucas freaked out that his life was never going to be normal, Ben and Torpedo were the ones who wanted to get to the bottom of why they all looked the same.

 

Ben was the one to bring them all together. It had all started when someone in his high school won a national science award, and Ben had been assigned the article for the school paper. Ben liked having all the information and during his research about previous winners, he’d stumbled upon a familiar face - Reed Albrecht.

 

Naturally, Ben got in touch to try and get some kind of explanation as to why they looked alike, and Reed as a science geek offered to run their DNA at the local lab, only to find that their DNA was completely identical. Reed had this crazy hypothesis that there might be more of them out there but Ben wasn’t entirely convinced.

 

Until he met Lucas Freeman while taking photos at an inter-school soccer match.

 

Lucas did not take it well at first, as Ben enjoyed recounting to the rest of the group. They literally ran into each other and Lucas nearly had a heart attack, then nearly broke Ben’s camera demanding to know what the hell was going on. Once Lucas had calmed down a bit, Ben managed to convince him to send a DNA sample for Reed to analyze - and a few weeks later, they confirmed it was yet another genetic identical.

 

Where Reed was excited about the scientific possibilities, Lucas just didn’t want to know at first. After telling both Ben and Reed to stay the hell away from him, he had a change of heart a few months later and got back in touch. (To this day, they’re not really sure why.) In those months in between, Ben found Torpedo.

 

He’d won some kind of gaming competition and was on the local news in New Jersey. It was pure coincidence that Ben happened to be visiting his grandfather in New Jersey and the TV was on in the background of dinner. It was pure dumb luck that Ben’s grandfather had lost his glasses that day and didn’t notice that this Marvin Adams kid on the television looked exactly like his grandson.

 

Torpedo remembers the day Ben got in touch pretty vividly. It was a Saturday afternoon, he was pretty stoned and playing World of Warcraft and then he got this Facebook message and legitimately thought he was majorly tripping when he saw this guy’s profile picture. They ended up talking on Facetime for about an hour, Torpedo absolutely convinced this whole thing was some kind of weird conspiracy, and it ended up with Ben literally driving to his house to meet him in person seeing as he was already in New Jersey.

 

Meeting Ben in person was one of the most surreal moments in his life.

 

Almost as surreal as getting stoned with Connor Murphy and trying to convince him that he needs to get a damn haircut if he’s going to pull this off.

 

“Can’t I just say that I grew it out over the summer?” Connor whines from his position curled up in the corner of the couch. “I could just trim it a bit shorter or something. I don’t want the hipster haircut.”

 

“The hipster haircut is a part of what makes Ben _Ben_ ,” Torpedo insists. “Plus, there are definitely people who are going to notice that your hair has all of a sudden grown a ton. We’re… we’re pretty sure that whatever it is that’s going on with us being genetic identicals, there’s someone watching out for us and they’ll be on the lookout for… things that are different.”

 

Connor sits up in a hurry. “Do you think they’ll figure out it’s not me who’s dead in the park from the _haircut_?” he asks. “I mean, it’s weird to assume I got a haircut then killed myself, right? Like… that’s fucked up.”

 

Torpedo thinks about it. “There’s not a lot we can do about it right now,” he points out. “But… I don’t know, I feel like it’s not enough to cause suspicion that the body’s not you, if that makes sense? At least, not publicly.” He sighs. “Reed has this theory that we probably all have someone monitoring us.”

 

Connor frowns. “What the fuck does that mean?”

 

“Reed thinks we’re part of an illegal human cloning experiment, and that with an experiment you kind of want to be observing and watching what happens,” Torpedo explains. “So there’s probably someone in your life who’s your monitor. Someone who keeps an eye on you and your health and wellbeing and all that shit. Probably a parent.”

 

“My dad’s a fucking asshole who’s constantly going through my emails and phone,” Connor replies darkly. “My money’s on him.” He frowns deeper. “Does that mean he knows? That he’s known the whole fucking time that I’m a clone?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Torpedo says with a shrug. “Reed’s pretty sure that any kind of monitoring is probably… hang on, what was the term he used… double-blind.”

 

“What?”

 

“So basically the monitors are told to, like, keep an eye on us or something, but they’re not told why. They probably don’t know we’re clones, they just know that we’re… I don’t know exactly what they’re telling them, but it’s probably something like a sociology study or… fuck, I don’t know.”

 

“So my dad probably didn’t know I was a clone freak,” Connor muses, shifting on the couch to throw his legs over the armrest. Torpedo has no fucking clue how Connor seems to have, like, 10% more leg than him when they’re genetically identical. “He just thought I was a regular freak.”

 

“All hail the freaks,” Torpedo jokes weakly. “But seriously dude, you need to get the haircut. There’s a barber like a block away, it won’t take long.”

 

“What if they think I’m you?” Connor asks. “Should I borrow your glasses or some shit?”

 

“I don’t go there,” Torpedo says with a shrug.

 

Connor smirks. “Let me guess - your mom still cuts your hair?”

 

Torpedo scowls. “Don’t drag me like this.”

 

Connor cracks up laughing. “I was kidding, but oh my god.”

 

“She hasn’t cut my hair in months,” Torpedo protests. “I’m growing it out.”

 

“How come you’re allowed to have long hair and I have to go all fucking heteronormative hipster?”

 

“Because I don’t have to pretend to be a heteronormative hipster.” Torpedo thinks for a moment, then figures he may as well go for it. “Besides, pretty sure Ben’s not exactly heterosexual.”

 

Connor raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

 

“I think he’s fucking his dealer.”

 

Connor’s eyebrows raise even higher. “His what?”

 

Torpedo sighs. “He doesn’t think I know, but, yeah, he’s got a pill problem.” His throat catches as he realizes. “Had a pill problem. Fuck.”

 

“What was he on?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“I spent the summer in rehab after getting really into oxycodone, so, yeah,” Connor snaps, his face a little pale. “Kind of like to know if I’m supposed to be passing as an addict. It’s gonna be hard enough to be a whole other fucking person.”

 

“Ben took a lot of Adderall,” Torpedo says, a little stunned at this new information. “As far as I can tell, he just took it instead of sleeping so he could get all his shit done.”

 

Connor groans. “That’s going to be fun.”

 

“He was doing too much,” Torpedo points out. “Pretty certain if he lays off the pills and drops some of his extracurriculars, everyone around him will breathe a sigh of fucking relief.”

 

“Okay, so tell me more about the people in Ben’s life,” says Connor, once again shifting on the couch. “I guess I need to get this sorted if I’m going to be Ben. What do you know about him?”

 

“He’s an only child, and his parents aren’t around a lot,” Torpedo replies, thinking back to everything he knows about his clone. “He’s got a granddad in New Jersey who he’s relatively close to, but he’s getting old and senile so if you ever have to spend time with him, you probably don’t need to be too careful. His parents both work in some kind of sales, and they’re constantly jet-setting, so he’s basically alone in this fancy New York apartment most of the time. He’s not a wild party type, but he’s relatively social at school. He and his girlfriend used to be really into Model UN but Ben dropped out around the time he found out about the clones. Too worried he’d run into another one at any national events.”

 

“I don’t even know what fucking Model UN is,” Connor confesses.

 

“You might want to look it up.”

 

“I thought he was fucking his dealer. What’s this about a girlfriend?”

 

“Her name’s Philippa,” Torpedo continues. “Philippa Martinez. I’m, like, 80% sure she’s his monitor. It would make sense if she was, because his parents sure as hell aren’t home enough to be any good at it, and she’s the closest person to him. But I’m also pretty sure she doesn’t know about the pills and I’m definitely sure she doesn’t know about Jerome.”

 

“Jerome’s the dealer?”

 

“Yeah. Another student at their school. Sells drugs to rich kids for parties. It’s all very Gossip Girl.”

 

Connor snorts. “Gossip Girl?”

 

“My older sister was really into it,” Torpedo says defensively. “Anyway. Ben’s the editor of the school paper, he’s on the student council, he’s got a 4.0 GPA and he tutors English at the local middle school every fortnight. And when he’s not doing that, he’s investigating the clones.”

 

“Shit,” says Connor, running his hands through his hair. “That’s fucking intense.”

 

“You just need to focus on convincing everyone in his life that you’re Ben,” Torpedo says firmly. “The clone shit… you don’t need to worry about that.” He bites his lip. “I think he has notes about his investigation on his laptop, though, so if there’s any way you could get those to me, I can look into it.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Connor says, once again running his hands through his hair. He takes a strand and looks at it forlornly. “Okay, guess I’m getting a fucking haircut.”

 

“Do you need a moment alone with your hair before you say goodbye?”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Half an hour later, Connor comes back from the barber and Torpedo’s heart clenches painfully for a moment because he looks exactly like Ben. Exactly like him.

 

“I hate this,” Connor grumbles. “My ears feel naked.”

 

“You definitely look the part,” Torpedo says, trying to keep his voice even. “No one’s going to suspect you’re not Ben. Just… tone down on the swearing, be super polite to everyone and you should be fine.”

 

Connor kind of stares at him for a long moment, hard and fierce. It’s a look that’s so not-Ben that it kind of jars Torpedo out of the horrible pain in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “He was your friend and now he’s gone and you’re stuck with this shitty bargain basement version. I’m sorry.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“I could have tried-”

 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“Yeah, but if I’d-”

 

“Connor.” Torpedo takes a deep breath and continues. “When Ben’s made up his mind about something, he’s fucking made up his mind. There was nothing you could have done.”

 

He fucking means what he says. There’s nothing Connor could have done. But there’s a tiny voice in the back of his head that insists that maybe, just maybe, Torpedo should have seen this coming.


	6. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan faces a moral dilemma.

Evan’s cautiously optimistic about his college experience. Things are going pretty well so far - he’s doing well in all his classes, his apartment is small but doesn’t have anything too horribly wrong with it and he’s made friends. His mom is thrilled that he seems to have found himself in college. She’d always been adamant that he would, at least vocally, and being proven right suits her. She just seems so happy to see him succeeding that it breaks his heart a little at how many years he spent failing her.

 

Most of his socializing is with Reed. Evan lets them drag him along to LGBT+ events, slam poetry nights and even this weird fundraiser at the planetarium which turned out to be pretty damn cool. They study together a lot but they also just hang out, most of the time at Evan’s place because he’s still not over the time he showed up at Reed’s and got yelled at by some Brit from the bedroom. Evan is many things, but an intentional cockblock is not one of them.

 

He’s pretty pleased to have made a friend - a proper friend, one he can talk to about things. It’s just a weird coincidence that Evan’s newest friend looks so much like his fake dead best friend.

 

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. And considering the fact that Reed Albrecht is about as different as you could possibly get from Connor Murphy, it’s usually pretty easy to convince himself.

 

(Except, says the little voice in the back of his head, you never really knew Connor Murphy. So how can you be sure they’re so different at all?)

 

Evan’s leaving a biochemistry lab and about to head home when he’s approached by a man in a grey suit. “Evan Hansen?” the man asks, with a pleasant smile.

 

“Uh, yes?”

 

“I’ve been hearing good things about your work in terrestrial biology,” the man says, smiling slightly wider. “My name’s Dr. Cliff Dubois from the DYAD Institute. You’ve come highly recommended from several of your lecturers. I was wondering if you’d like to come in and discuss a job opportunity.”

 

Evan’s eyes widen slightly. “Uh… that’s very flattering but I’m only a junior, I won’t be graduating for another 2 years, more if I do my Masters and Ph.D.”

 

Dr. Dubois smiles again. “We’re always keen to nurture promising talent, even from the beginning of their journeys. I’ve got a project in mind I think you’d be perfect for - here’s my card, feel free to call and set up a meeting at your convenience.”

 

“Okay,” Evan replies as he takes the card, too shellshocked to argue. “I’ll do that.”

 

He stares at the card for a long time that night. And the next morning. Finally, sometime in the afternoon, he makes the call.

 

High School Evan would never have made the call. Not for something like this. Evan can’t help but be proud of himself, which feels stupid for something so small, but… things are better and he should allow himself to celebrate that, as his therapist always says.

 

High School Evan would have spent hours and hours getting ready for this meeting, worrying about what to wear and what to say and whether this was some kind of joke and they were just outsourcing the responsibility of kicking him out of college to some kind of institution. And yeah, they’re not exactly worries that are completely gone from College Evan’s head, but it’s a little bit easier to say to that panicked voice in his head ‘ _you’re not being kicked out of college by the DYAD Institute, you’ve researched them and they have nothing to do with your college, except that they sometimes work with the science department, and this is probably a great opportunity for you so would it kill you to calm the fuck down?_ ’

 

College Evan has indeed spent at least an hour getting ready for this meeting, but he’s not second-guessing himself nearly as much as High School Evan would have. He’s feeling good. He’s made some notes about areas that DYAD are exploring that interest him and fit in with the path he sees his studies taking. He’s brought his resume and a brief outline of what he eventually wants to do his thesis on. He’s as prepared as he possibly can be and even though there’s that familiar paranoia about whether he’s gross and sweaty in his button up shirt, he keeps reassuring himself that the blazer will hide any unsightly armpit stains - even though he hasn’t worn the blazer and years and it’s a little tight around the shoulders these days because he’s not quite as weedy as he was in high school. But that’s okay.

 

It’s all okay.

 

He’s got this.

 

The DYAD Institute has branches all over the world, but there is one in the same town as his college. It’s a brightly lit building that has the interesting juxtaposition of looking both clinical and extremely expensive. They clearly don’t want for money here, and it feels fancier than a hospital but still hasn’t quite lost that cold, slightly foreboding feeling that hospitals always have.

 

The receptionist smiles that same pleasant smile and ushers him into a meeting room, which is even fancier looking than the rest of the place. Dr. Dubois stands to meet him, shakes his hand then gestures for him to sit in on a grey leather sofa that probably costs more than Evan’s entire apartment complex.

 

“We’ve heard great things, Evan Hansen,” says Dr. Dubois, confident and pleasant. “Your abilities far outweighed what community college was able to provide and it’s extremely fortunate you were able to make it out here to a proper university where you can reach your full potential. If I may be so bold as to ask - are you considering further study once you’ve completed your senior year?”

 

“I’d like to eventually work on a doctorate in environmental science,” Evan says, oddly encouraged despite himself. “Obviously I’m still tossing up my options, but I’d be interested in focusing on cultivating plant life to combat the rising carbon dioxide levels, especially in highly populated areas.”

 

“A noble goal,” says Dr. Dubois, nodding and smiling. “You’ve got a very promising future ahead of you, Mr. Hansen, and we at the DYAD Institute are always looking to cultivate new talent, as I mentioned. I think we can help each other. It’s a little out of your area of expertise, but we believe you’d be an excellent fit for our study on long-term social matrices.”

 

Evan has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about but doesn’t want to seem like an idiot. “Can you tell me more about the study?”

 

“It’s a blind study on environments and learning about social behavior,” Dr. Dubois explains. “We have a subject we’ve been observing for some time but we’d like to get a better handle on what makes them tick from a social perspective. It’s non-invasive, completely benign, but the subject needs to be completely unaware that they’re being observed for the data to be uncorrupted. I’m sure as a scientist you understand.”

 

Alarm bells are starting to ring in the back of Evan’s mind. “Who’s the subject?”

 

“You know them rather well,” Dr. Dubois says, smiling even more. “Reed Albrecht.”

 

There’s a cold hand squeezing Evan’s stomach and he can’t quite shake the feeling that there is something very, very, very wrong. “I know them,” he says carefully. “Why are they being studied?”

 

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you any more details. It would affect the integrity of the study. All we’d need from you is a weekly update on Reed’s behavior, health, general well-being and social behaviors. This is all information you’ve already got access to - we’re aware that you’ve become quite good friends.” Dr. Dubois hands Evan a folder. “In return, we’re willing to cover tuition costs for your graduate studies, and even guarantee a position at the Institute once you’ve graduated. You’re a brilliant young man, who has a lot to offer the scientific community, and I’m convinced that we can do great things together.”

 

“Can I have some time to think about it?” Evan asks. “Go over the contract, get a better idea of what’s required.” At Dr. Dubois’s look, he continues in a rush. “I just want to make sure I’m up to it. I don’t want to let anyone down.”

 

Dr. Dubois smiles wide. Evan can’t help but notice that every time he smiles it feels a little more surreal. “This is strictly confidential, of course,” he says. “But as long as you stick to the confidentiality agreement, you can have all the time you need to think it over. I understand you might have some… moral misgivings at the thought of reporting on a friend, but I want to assure you that this is entirely benign, and while I can’t tell you exact details, I promise that the information we’re gathering about Reed is to help better their life, and the lives of countless others. There’s a big picture here, Mr. Hansen, one I hope to be able to share with you someday, and I firmly believe it’s going to change the world.”

 

Evan takes the bus back to his apartment in a daze and spends the rest of the day reading through all the paperwork from DYAD. It’s… a little unsettling. The information he’s supposed to gather about Reed is… well, most of it is stuff he can find out pretty easily, but some of it is pretty personal, and Evan definitely wouldn’t be cool with someone knowing this information about him, especially a large corporation like DYAD. Then again, information is required for science, and… it’s not harmful, right?

 

Then there’s a section on testing that kind of makes Evan want to throw up a little. He’d have to provide access to Reed’s apartment for testing purposes, all the while keeping Reed unaware of the fact that they’re being tested. He tries to wrap his head around it and guesses that what DYAD would want would be a key to Reed’s apartment and the assurance that they’re alone.

 

From a practical standpoint, it wouldn’t be too difficult - Reed is constantly leaving their keys behind so offering to have a spare as a just in case measure since they’re friends probably wouldn’t come across as too weird, and while it’s not really Evan’s style he’s sure he could get up the courage to ask about Reed’s plans with partners every once in a while. Reed’s not exactly shy about their sexuality.

 

From an ethical standpoint…

 

Evan doesn’t know if he can do this.

 

Then he looks at the compensation for the testing and he nearly falls off the sofa. As well as paying for his graduate studies, there’s a generous weekly allowance for taking part in the study - a very generous weekly allowance. Evan’s been scrimping and saving for so long that the idea of having this much money every week makes his head spin. This can’t be real. They can’t be serious, there’s got to be a typo in there somewhere. An extra zero or a decimal point in the wrong spot.

 

On one hand, this study could keep him afloat through the rest of his degree without having to take on a grueling summer job to get back. It would free him up for things like internships and case studies, things that would actually help his career. It would give his mother a break - a well-deserved break.

 

On the other hand… invading a friend’s life? Lying to them? Just for extra money? It doesn’t seem right. And what they’re asking him to do doesn’t match up with the money they’re paying - there’s something going on here, and Evan doesn’t know what it is, but he’s not sure he can let himself get caught up in it.

 

Most importantly - he doesn’t think he can live another lie. Especially one involving someone who looks so much like the fact that launched the first one.

 

He thinks he’s made a decision.

 

He needs to talk to Reed.

 

Twenty minutes later, he’s knocking on Reed’s door. He can hear noise from inside and inwardly prays he won’t have to deal another one of Reed’s booty buddies (Reed called one of their partners a booty buddy once and Evan refuses to let it go because it’s just too funny.) The door opens a fraction and Reed pokes their head into the hallway, eyes wide at the sight of Evan.

 

“Are you alone?” Evan asks.

 

Reed nods. “Yup,” they say loudly. “I’m alone.”

 

Evan doesn’t know if he believes them, but as long as whoever it is stays in the bedroom and out of earshot, he doesn’t care. “I have to talk to you about something,” he says firmly. “Something important.”

 

Reed lets him into their apartment. Evan takes a deep breath.


	7. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor learns more about Ben Childs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a tumblr for this AU because it's probably gonna be long and super weird. It's at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com - feel free to follow and reblog and whatnot. I'm also doing moodboards for my clone children over the next little while because I love them.

“Everything okay, Ben?”

 

Connor has been preparing himself all day for an interaction as Ben Childs. He’s got the new haircut (which he hates, thanks for asking), he’s got the blazer and the stupid loafers and the fancy messenger bag thing and he’s taken off his nail polish (again, which he hates) and he’s finally found the right apartment building. He’s been preparing himself for a conversation with Ben’s girlfriend. He’s been preparing himself for a conversation with Ben’s dealer slash fuckbuddy. But he definitely wasn’t ready for a conversation with the fucking _doorman_.

 

“I’m fine?” he says carefully.

 

“It’s just been a few days since we’ve seen you,” says the doorman, looking a little concerned. He’s got an Irish accent and seems to actually give a shit. “Glad to see you’re in one piece.”

 

There’s this churning feeling in his gut and he kinda wants to scream at this guy, because who the fuck does he think he is and what the fuck does he think he’s asking? But, he reminds himself, that’s a Connor Murphy reaction. And right now, he’s Ben Childs. “Present and accounted for,” he says instead with what he hopes is a charming grin and a small salute. “I’m all good. No need to worry.”

 

“I’m just looking out for you,” says the doorman, his tone vaguely apologetic. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen your folks as well. How long are they away this time?”

 

This Connor actually knows, thanks to Torpedo’s constant updates on the Childs parents’ itinerary. “They’ll be gone until mid-October unless anything changes,” he says casually. “They’re in Germany at the moment.”

 

“Germany,” the doorman says flatly. “Well, lucky for some, I guess.” He shakes his head. “Still don’t think it’s right, leaving a kid to his own devices so much like this. Not that you’re running wild or anything - you’ve always been a sensible kid, Ben, I just don’t think it’s fair you’re alone all the time. I haven’t seen them since June.”

 

Connor has no idea who the fuck this guy is but he guesses it’s nice he kind of cares. Whatever. “I keep busy,” he says instead with kind of a shrug. At the look on this guy’s face, he feels the need to defend Ben’s parents. “And they call a lot, so…”

 

According to the log on Ben’s phone, they do not, in fact, call a lot, or really at all, but there is the occasional text message. And that sucks for Ben Childs but is a bit of a mercy for Connor Murphy pretending to be Ben Childs.

 

“Alright then,” says the doorman. “You take care of yourself, kid.”

 

Connor nods then heads to the elevator and surreptitiously checks his phone to remind himself what floor he’s going to. And what number apartment. As the elevator heads to the twelfth floor, Connor fishes out Ben’s keys and kind of snorts when he sees that they’re not only color-coded, they’re also neatly labeled. “Nerd,” he says under his breath, just before the door opens.

 

He lets himself into apartment 12B and tries not to stare. It’s… pretty fucking ritzy, all things considered, but looks more like one of the fancy hotel suites his parents liked to stay in only family vacations than somewhere you’d actually live. There’s a black blazer slung across the back of one of the sofas, some cushions and an empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table, but otherwise, the place is more or less tidy.

 

Connor takes himself on a tour.

 

There’s a master bedroom, which he assumes belongs to Ben’s parents, which is spotless and tidy and almost completely devoid of personality. He doesn’t bother going in to check things out further but he notices there’s an ensuite bathroom. There’s another bedroom with a queen sized bed and towels neatly stacked at the end that looks exactly like a hotel room - probably a guest bedroom. Then there’s another room that he assumes must be Ben’s.

 

It’s well-lit and relatively large, with a queen-sized bed in the corner. There are certificates all over the walls, along with the occasional framed photo or medal. The most prominent thing in the room is the desk. It’s big, it’s wooden and has shelves which are literally full of folders, all neatly filed and color-coded. What the fuck is with this kid and color-coding? There’s a top of the line MacBook and a printer, as well as a 2 screen set-up and separate mouse and keyboard.

 

Connor thinks about texting Torpedo to see if he can help hack into Ben’s computer but vaguely remembers in the back of his mind that the latest MacBooks have fingerprint ID. And if they’re genetically identical… may as well give it a go, right?

 

It works.

 

Ben’s computer is every bit as organized as the rest of his desk. Connor browses through the folders, all named with specific titles like ‘School Paper’ and ‘College Applications’ until he stumbles across one that doesn’t seem to fit.

 

Phanes.

 

Connor was not popular in elementary school. Or middle school. Or high school. As a result, he spent an awful lot of time in the library. And a lot of time reading about Greek mythology. So he recognizes this word.

 

Phanes, the deity of procreation and generation of new life.

 

Sounds like it might be code for a fucked up clone conspiracy.

 

He opens the folder.

 

If everything else to this point had been organized to a ridiculous degree, this folder is the complete opposite. It’s full of all sorts of things - pictures, video clips, notes, articles saved from online, in no particular semblance of order. But there’s information there, and lots of it.

 

This is probably what Torpedo was after.

 

Connor finds a USB flash drive sitting on the desk and plugs it into the computer. It’s got a pink fluffy thing on the end, which doesn’t really seem like Ben, but Connor doesn’t think too much of it until the thumbnail image loads on the video that’s the only thing stored on the drive.

 

It’s a still of an arguably pretty Hispanic girl. Connor remembers what Torpedo said about Ben’s personal life and is willing to bet this is Philippa Martinez.

 

He clicks on the video.

 

“I’m Philippa Martinez, and it’s August 19, 2017,” she says, her voice confident. “Reporting on subject Ben Childs for the DYAD Institute case study. It’s now officially been 2 years since Ben and I started dating - today’s our 2nd anniversary. Ben took me out for breakfast this morning because his parents are actually in town for the first time in ages, so he wanted to spend the evening with them, which makes sense. So that’s not a worry. I do have some concerns however about Ben and our plans for the future. We were talking about colleges today. As you’ll know from earlier logs, we’ve been talking about going to NYU since we first started dating in sophomore year, because it’s such a good school and it would let us stay local. Today he dropped a bomb on me that he’s applying to UCLA, which is completely ridiculous because that’s never come up in conversation at all. Sure, we’ve discussed safety schools, but they’re all in New York or New Jersey, not halfway across the country. I don’t know why he wants to leave all of a sudden.”

 

“Maybe because he found out that his girlfriend is reporting his every move to some shady science organization?” Connor guesses out loud. He’s going to have a fun time pretending to be into this chick, that much he can tell.

 

“It doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Philippa continues. “I asked him why he’d want to go so far away for college and he didn’t have a proper answer, which is weird because Ben’s the kind of guy who has an answer for everything. Even the questions you don’t ask. So I think something’s up, but I’m not sure what. I’ll see if I can pry some answers out of him because this is definitely out of character and I definitely don’t want to move to California, either. I guess we could do long distance but I don’t think I trust him enough away for college on the other side of the country, not to mention what it would mean for the case study. I’ll have to keep thinking about it. I know my role here is to strictly observe, but I’m going to do my best to keep him in New York. So we can keep the study going. I know it’s important and I’m fully committed to making it work.”

 

Connor stares at the screen for a while after the video finishes then takes the green phone from out of his pocket and calls Torpedo.

 

“Hey,” Torpedo answers on the third ring. “How’s life being Benjamin Childs?”

 

“He definitely knew Philippa was his monitor,” Connor says. “Listen to this.”

 

He holds up the phone to the laptop and presses play on the video again. When it’s over, he waits to hear what Torpedo’s response is.

 

“That fucking bitch.”

 

“My thoughts exactly.”

 

Torpedo sighs. “Fuck man, you’re gonna have to play it cool when you meet her, okay? You’re going to have to act like you’ve got no idea, like you’re still super into her.” Torpedo sighs again. “I mean, I’ve seen pictures, and she’s hot, so it shouldn’t be that hard.”

 

Connor snorts. “I’m gay, dude.”

 

He can practically hear his clone roll his eyes. “Well you’re already pretending to be a completely different person, I’m sure you can manage pretending that person is straight. Or bi. Or whatever it is Ben is. Was. I don’t fucking know.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“I’m guessing you got into Ben’s computer, then?” Torpedo says eagerly. “I’m sure he’s got all sorts of crazy shit on there about the clonespiracy. Hit me with it.”

 

“I’ll get you a USB stick with everything on it sometime in the next few days,” Connor promises. “It’s… there’s a lot.”

 

“Would it be super weird if I hacked into Ben’s emails?”

 

“You’re asking the person who is literally taking over his life,” Connor points out. “I’m not a good barometer of what’s morally sound anymore.”

 

Torpedo sighs. “He’s done a ton of research and I know there were things he wasn’t telling me, but… I don’t know, I don’t know if I want to open a whole new can of worms.”

 

“So just think about it,” Connor offers. “You don’t have to do it straight away.” Connor goes through the files in the folder again. “There’s just… it’s really weird how unorganized all of this shit is, dude. Like, everything else in his room is color coded and neatly labeled and super, super tidy, but this folder is just… a mess.”

 

“What’s the most recent file?”

 

Connor checks. “An audio recording. Shall we?”

 

“Right on.”

 

Connor puts the phone on speaker and clicks the audio recording. It crackles for a moment and then begins.

 

“You don’t know me,” says the voice, posh and British and terrified, “but my name is Eric Brownrigg and I’m another one of your clones. We’re fairly certain you’ve figured out that you’re part of this whole clone experiment by now but we don’t know if you’re aware that this is global. It’s not just the US, it’s all over the world. The reason I’m telling you this is because there’s something important you need to know.” The voice falters for a moment, then continues. “Someone is hunting us. Hunting us, and killing us, and we think they’ll come for the North American clones soon. Somehow, they’ve found a way to track us down. We’re not sure how, exactly, but it’ll be similar to how we’ve found you - and if we can find you, so can they. There’s so much to say and so much we can’t fully explain without a face to face meeting. Hopefully, you’ll get this message before I arrive. I can’t give you a time or a date yet, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Maybe between what we’ve all pieced together, we’ll be able to start shedding some light on this. I can’t give you a way to contact me, unfortunately - I won’t be checking the email address I sent this from again and I’m on the move. Stay strong. Stay alert. And most importantly, stay alive.”

 

The message stops and Torpedo’s voice is hollow on the other end of the line.

 

“Guess he fucked up that last part, didn’t he. For fuck’s sake, Ben.”

 

Not for the first time since this whole ordeal began, Connor finds himself desperately wanting to cry.


	8. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past and present collide.

Ben Childs is top of his class at NYU. 

 

Connor’s kind of proud of that, though he’d never admit it. It keeps Ben’s parents happy, which keeps a generous allowance flowing, which also means he can do pretty much whatever he wants. 

 

It helps that Connor is genuinely enjoying the English literature major he’s enrolled in as Ben and while Ben’s parents still don’t necessarily understand why Ben gave up his passion for journalism in senior year of high school, they’re supportive of Ben no matter what. 

 

Connor finds himself thinking about what Cynthia and Larry would think about his English degree. Larry would think it was a waste of time, no doubt. Cynthia would just be happy he was going to class. 

 

He tries not to think about it too much. 

 

It’s hard. 

 

Especially when there’s this big reminder of his past who’s suddenly best friends with his clone. 

 

Realistically, if it had to be any of his clones who befriended the guy who pretended to be his best friend to help his grieving family get over his death after a weird misunderstanding but with mostly good intentions, Connor’s glad it’s Reed. Because nothing seems to fucking shake Reed. 

 

So if Connor’s at Reed’s almost every weekend, pilfering their weed stash and generally hanging out, it has nothing to do with the fact that Evan Hansen’s come crashing back into his life. 

 

Well, not his life. Reed’s life. But still. 

 

This particular day, Connor arrives with a fuckton of fried food from this weird vegan place around the corner from Reed’s apartment, because he knows they like it and he figures that if he brings food, Reed might not give him shit for being here  _ again _ for… maybe half an hour. 

 

The first time Reed introduced him to the food from this place and said ‘it’s vegan!’, Connor got weird flashbacks to his mom’s lasagna and had to take a bit of time in the bathroom to kind of calm down because he was weirdly emotional, which he’s still embarrassed about, and it still kind of makes him feel a little weird, but he’s getting used to it. 

 

It helps that this stuff is actually good - it’s like, fried samosas with potato and chickpeas and other shit he’s not going to think about too much, but dip it in a plum sauce and it’s fucking delicious. He’s not about to convert to veganism full time or anything, but… samosas. 

 

“Did you get spring rolls?”

 

“Of course I got spring rolls.”

 

Reed smirks and pulls a bunch of sauces from their fridge. “You brought food so I wouldn’t give you shit about stealing my weed and my jacket, didn’t you?”

 

Connor laughs. “Consider it a peace offering. Or bribery for continuing to put up with me.”

 

Reed hesitates for a moment, then looks at Connor knowingly. Once again, Connor’s struck with the weirdness of seeing a look of concern on his own face - albeit his own face with a lip ring and purple eyeshadow. “You know I don’t just put up with you, right? We’ve known each other for three years, we have the same DNA - I don’t just fucking put up with you, I like you. You’re my brother.”

 

Connor scowls. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Reed.”

 

“Fuck you,” Reed says with a warm smile. “Take the plum sauce, dick.”

 

They get stuck into the food in companionable silence for awhile. Well, relative silence - Reed’s got some weird instrumental shit playing that Connor doesn’t completely hate but is a little bit confused by. At one point there’s a bitching guitar solo and he finds his mind drifting to Zoe. 

 

He really hopes she’s happy, wherever she is. She’s probably so much better off without having to deal with his toxic shit anymore. The last he’d heard, she was studying music and psychology in Vermont.  

 

He hopes she’s having a great time, away from the shadow of everything he put her through. 

 

There’s a knock on the door. 

 

Reed looks at Connor and sighs. “You’re gonna have to go hide in the bedroom again.”

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Fine, but I’m taking the samosas.” He picks up a container of samosas and heads into the bedroom, sitting against the door and half-heartedly listening in. 

 

The minute he recognizes the voice, he starts listening in earnest. 

 

It’s Evan Hansen. 

 

“You okay dude?” says Reed, their voice clearly concerned. “You look pretty pale. Did something else happen with the situation we talked about last time you were here?”

 

Connor takes an aggressive bite out of a samosa and tries not to let it bother him that Evan Hansen is still tied up in the Murphy family’s life. 

 

“This is something else,” says Evan, his voice shaky but firm. “It’s weird, and I don’t know how to explain it properly, so I’m going to try and I need you to just… not freak out, okay?”

 

Connor can practically picture the look on Reed’s face as they respond. “Uh, okay.” Reed’s not exactly the kind of person to freak out about anything. 

 

Freaking out is more Lucas’s style. 

 

Or Evan Hansen’s, apparently. 

 

“I was approached by someone from an organization called the DYAD Institute,” Evan says. And Connor’s blood runs cold. Because he knows that name. “They wanted me to take part in a study. Long-term social matrices. Data collection, observation, all that. It’s apparently completely benign and non-invasive, but the subject needs to be completely unaware.”

 

“Okay,” Reed says hesitantly. “I mean, as a scientist, that makes sense. Making sure the data is uncorrupted by bias. A little weird, but… I get why.”

 

“In return for collecting data on this person, there’s a weekly allowance and they’ll pay for my grad school,” Evan continues. “And that’s… a lot. There was never much money growing up. My mom was constantly working and was never home and that was… really hard for me as a teenager, because I didn’t have great social skills and I didn’t have any friends and I was just… constantly alone.” Evan chuckles weakly. “It’s one of the reasons I got so close to Connor’s family. They were there and wanted to know me, wanted this connection to Connor they thought I had and I was just… so lonely.” Connor thinks he can hear Evan sniff and it kind of hurts. “Anyway, I went through 2 years of community college and worked and saved and scrimped so I could get here for junior and senior year, and even with all that, it’s still tight. Money’s a huge problem and this study… it would really help.”

 

“So you’re trying to decide what to do?” Reed asks. “And you wanted someone to bounce ideas off?”

 

There’s a long moment of silence. 

 

Connor wishes he could see what’s happening. 

 

“Evan?” Reed asks softly. 

 

“No, I’ve made my decision,” says Evan, voice shaky but firm. “I’m not doing it.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Because you’re the subject.”

 

Connor drops the samosa in shock.

 

There’s another long moment of silence.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re the subject,” Evan says in a rush. “They wanted me to get all this information about you, and let them into your apartment when you’re alone to run tests while you’re sleeping, and it’s all creepy as shit and I couldn’t… I couldn’t just not tell you. I don’t think… the money they’re offering, it doesn’t match up for something that’s… harmless, so I think… I think there’s something else going on, and I don’t know what it is, but you’re my friend and I want you to be safe and I can’t be caught up in another lie regarding someone with your face, I just… I just can’t.”

 

“Shit,” says Reed. Their voice sounds far away, for some reason, despite the thin apartment walls. “Shit.”

 

“I’m going to tell them no,” Evan says, his voice still shaky. “I haven’t signed anything, I’ve… I can’t do that you.”

 

“If you don’t do it, someone else will,” Reed says suddenly. “And it’s better if it's you. Someone who’s on our side.”

 

“Our side?” Evan asks hesitantly. 

 

“My side,” Reed corrects themself. “My side. From what you’re saying… they’re willing to put a lot of resource into this study, and if they’re determined to study me, then they’ll find a way to do it, even without you. And now that you’ve warned me, I’ll know.”

 

“Why would they want to study you?” Evan asks. “It doesn’t… it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact you look like Connor, doesn’t it?”

 

Reed takes in a sharp intake of breath. 

 

Connor’s heart is pounding so hard it’s making it hard to hear. 

 

But he’s sure of one thing. 

 

Reed’s losing control of the situation. 

 

Evan’s proven he doesn’t want to cause them any harm. 

 

He stands up and he opens the door of the bedroom. 

 

“Reed’s right,” he says, with a lot more confidence than he feels. “It’s better that it’s you. So what you’ve got to do now is go back to those fuckers at DYAD and tell them you’re in. You’ll get your tuition money and we’ll finally have someone on the inside. It’s a win-win.”

 

Evan stares at him for a long moment, eyes wide and terrified. 

 

Connor smirks. “Gee Hansen, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

Evan kind of chokes, like someone’s hit him hard in the solar plexus. 

 

And then starts fucking hyperventilating. 

 

Reed shoots Connor the most frustrated look he’s ever seen, then focuses their attention on Evan. “Hey. Hey. Evan, look at me. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

 

“This isn’t real, he’s dead, you look like him, he’s dead, he’s deaddeaddead, his family, there are two of you oh my god this isn’t real this isn’t real I’m dreaming it’s a ghost he’s not real you’re not real this isn’t real-”

 

“Evan. Evan, come on. I need you to breathe.” 

 

Reed has their arm around Evan’s shoulder and Connor’s a little bit uncomfortable about it (for reasons he’s not going to analyze right now, thank you very much) but it’s like Evan’s not even aware they’re there. He’s hyperventilating and rambling and white as a sheet and fuck, Connor thought he’d had a panic attack but this is scarier, somehow, because there’s nothing he can do and it’s definitely his fault. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says, trying to make his voice as gentle as he can, which is hard because he’s many things but gentle isn’t one of them. “That was… a dick move.”

 

“No shit,” Reed grumbles. “You’re such an asshole.”

 

“Are you real?” Evan asks sharply, staring right at Connor. “Are you Connor Murphy, or are you someone else?”

 

Connor prepares himself to say the lie he’s been living for the past 3 years. 

 

It should be easy. 

 

It should be natural by now. 

 

And with anyone else, it would be.

 

“I’m Connor,” he admits quietly. 

 

Evan’s still shaking but his breathing is more under control. He’s still staring at Connor, still pale as a corpse, and his eyes are just a little too bright and he’s seen this expression of panic in the mirror before, but not on someone else’s face like this, and it’s just a little bit too much to handle. Connor takes in a shaky breath. 

 

“Your family thinks you’re dead,” Evan manages to say despite the shaking. “They’re so… they’re still devastated, why would you do that? Why would you…”

 

“It wasn’t exactly his decision,” Reed says when it’s obvious that Connor’s not going to say anything in response. “Not entirely. Connor just got caught up in this.”

 

“The body looked just like you,” Evan continues, still shaking. “But you’d had a haircut. No one understood that, but no one questioned it. But it wasn’t you, was it? It was someone else who looked like you.” Evan breathes in what he’s clearly intending to be a slow, steady manner but instead, it’s just prolonged shaking. “How many of you are there?”

 

“We don’t know for sure,” Connor admits. “We’re still trying to find out.”

 

“How many do you know about?”

 

“Over a dozen.”

 

“Fuck,” says Evan, putting his head in his hands and staying there for a long while. Connor doesn’t know what to do so he just… sits on the sofa next to him and focuses all his energy on the bong the coffee table. 

 

Being high would be so great right now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic's on Tumblr: https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/
> 
> If you wanna make art, just boop me cos I'm always here for art.


	9. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Childs is dead. Long live Ben Childs.

Connor Murphy isn’t the type of person to spend a lot of time getting dressed in the morning. Nine times out of ten, he’s going to wear the same thing he wore the day before unless it’s particularly disgusting. He’ll usually roll out of bed, get high, grab his shit and fuck right off, not necessarily in that order.

 

Benjamin Childs, however…

 

Connor’s still not sure he’s a hundred percent on board with this whole ‘taking over a dead kid’s identity’ thing. It was kind of an impulse decision. It’s entirely possible he’ll regret it. But he’s here now, and he’s going to make the best of it, and it kind of does feel like a bit of a… rebirth, in some ways.

 

The apartment is quiet. Connor’s not used to the quiet. There’s always some kind of noise at the Murphy household - Zoe’s guitar, Larry and Cynthia screaming at each other, the whirlwind of noise he himself creates when things in his head get too loud to keep inside. But this apartment - it’s still. Not deathly still - there are still the faint noises of the city below if you get too close to the windows, but stiller than Connor’s ever experienced.

 

There’s something kind of calming about it.

 

He wonders how long it’ll take before calming turns into lonely.

 

 

He gets up earlier than Connor would, but from the fact that he’s woken by an alarm, this is more or less normal for Ben. He resists the urge to go back to sleep (this bed is ridiculously comfortable, oh my god) and gets up and has a shower, scowling a bit as he realizes that his hair is really fucking gone.

 

Also that he has no idea what to do with it. He uses all the products he finds in the shower, even though he’s pretty sure he’s doing it wrong, and when he gets out of the shower he finds a whole bunch of other products on the bathroom shelf, and it’s so fucking overwhelming he just gives up and goes to get changed.

 

Once he’s dressed, he’s still not sure he knows what’s happening, and kind of looks at his hair in dismay. It doesn’t look right. He has no idea what he’s doing. It’s weird and fluffy and he doesn’t know how to make it look like it looked when he got back from the barber. Or the way Ben’s hair looked when he died in front of him.

 

So Connor does the only thing he can think of.

 

He gets out the green phone (which Torpedo explained is the clone phone and should only be used for clone related things) and he clicks on Reed’s contact.

 

“Morning Connor,” Reed says, far more chipper than they have any right to be first thing in the morning. “What’s up?”

 

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

 

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

 

“With my hair. This stupid haircut. It doesn’t look right and I don’t know what to do.”

 

Connor scowls even more as he hears Reed completely crack up for a solid minute.

 

“I’ve Skyped Ben before,” Reed says finally. “Fire up your computer and let’s see what we’re working with.”

 

Five minutes later, Reed’s on the screen in front of Connor and laughing even more. “You look like someone pulled you out of a swamp, dude.”

 

“Hair care isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities,” Connor grumbles.

 

“Not for Connor Murphy,” Reed concedes. “But you’re Ben Childs now.” There’s a kind of catch in Reed’s voice as they say that which Connor chooses to ignore. “Okay, here’s what you do.”

 

Reed walks him through getting hair product (and picking the right one, which takes some time) and blow drying to get it to do the thing it’s supposed to be doing. The whole process takes about ten minutes and Connor is getting more frustrated by the minute because _it should not be this complicated._

 

“Is this okay?” he says finally.

 

Reed looks him up and down. “You can’t wear that blazer with that shirt.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“They’re both different shades of black.”

 

“I like black.”

 

“Yeah, but-”

 

“Ben doesn’t wear all black,” Connor finishes with a roll of his eyes. “I get it.”

 

“Go for a different colored blazer,” Reed instructs. “Or a different colored shirt. Just avoid black on black. It’s too funeral.”

 

Connor doesn’t want to think about funerals, so he nods and agrees. “What about a light blue shirt and a dark blue blazer?” he suggests.

 

Reed nods. “Now we’re talking. That’s a very Ben look.”

 

Connor hesitates. “Were you close?” he asks. “You and Ben?”

 

Reed’s silent for a moment. “I don’t think Ben was ever really close to anyone,” they say quietly. “He was the closest to Torpedo out of all of us, but… he always held himself back. He was kind of the ringleader of this whole thing. He brought us together and… I think he felt responsible.” Reed sighs. “We should have done something.”

 

“Torpedo said that there was nothing we could have done,” Connor says quietly. “That when he’s made up his mind…”

 

“Yeah,” Reed says abruptly. “Well. Just… don’t you go doing anything stupid like that, okay?”

 

Connor kind of stares for a minute. “What,” he says flatly. “It’s none of your fucking business, dude.”

 

“It kind of is,” Reed presses. “I’m not an idiot, Connor. We can’t lose another one of us.”

 

“Whatever,” Connor mutters. “I’m going to school. Thanks for the hair shit.”

 

He doesn’t give Reed a chance to respond before ending the call.

 

There’s a text on his black phone from Philippa, who’s apparently downstairs waiting for him in her car. They’ve been texting back and forth for the past day, Connor trying his best to mimic Ben’s tone from previous texts. He’s fairly certain he can do this. He’s looked at the website for the fancy private school Ben attends and got a general handle of where things are - there’s a goddamn video tour of the place on the site, it’s insane. He’s read through his schedule and tried to memorize everything he can - he’s always had a good memory, despite the sheer amount of pot he smokes. He can do this.

 

He can do this.

 

He waves at the doorman (who, he has learned, is named Seamus) and heads out onto the street, where a blue convertible is parked in front of his building. Philippa waves at him, and he waves back with what he hopes is a smile, getting his first look at Ben’s girlfriend in the flesh as he climbs into the passenger seat.

 

She smiles at him, all perfect white teeth, tanned skin and shiny black hair. Then she leans toward him and Connor’s brain starts ringing alarm bells because he hasn’t kissed a girl since Olivia Smith kissed him in kindergarten in the sandpit and he whacked her with a plastic shovel. Awkwardly, he leans in and kisses her on the cheek. When he pulls away, she’s looking at him with a quizzical expression, but luckily doesn’t press it.

 

“Excited for the first day?” she says breezily as they drive along the streets of the city.

 

Connor had just assumed he was going to have to make some kind of excuse as to why he’d missed the first two days of school, so he’s pleasantly surprised to realize that school hadn’t actually started yet. “It’s gonna be a good year,” he says, trying to sound confident.

 

“It’d be better if you hadn’t quit Model UN last year,” Philippa says, her tone deceptively light. Now _this_ Connor can deal with. His mother was the queen of passive-aggression. “We’re going on a trip to Washington DC next month, you know.”

 

“I need to focus on the paper,” says Connor. “You know that.” He forces out a laugh. “I can’t do everything, Philippa.”

 

“Oh, so you’re giving me the full name treatment?” she replies, perfectly manicured eyebrows rising as she shoots him a glare. “Real mature, Benjamin.”

 

Shit. “If I were really giving you the full name treatment, I’d be bringing out the middle name,” he ventures, trying for a charming smile and probably failing. What the fuck is short for Philippa? Phil? Pip? What?

 

“That just reminds me of my abuela,” she says, lips curling into a smile. “Philippa Margarita Elena Garcia Martinez, stop hitting your brother!” She rolls her eyes a little, but she seems to have calmed down a little. “That’s such a mouthful, Pippa is so much easier.”

 

Pippa. Okay. He can work with this. “Pippa is much easier to say,” he agrees. “But your full name is… pretty.”

 

“You’re weird this morning,” says Pippa with another roll of her eyes.

 

 _Just this morning?_ Connor thinks to himself. _Lady, you’re gonna have to get used to this, because your boyfriend offed himself and all you’ve got now is his very gay clone who has no fucking clue what he’s doing._

 

Getting into the school building is weird and surreal because, for the first time in his life, people actually stop and talk to him. They’re smiling at him. They seem happy to see him. There’s even one guy who does some kind of weird handshake that Connor somehow flubs his way through. It’s just… not what he’s used to.

 

A part of him misses people giving him a wide berth but he definitely doesn’t mind the lack of glares and whispers and general vitriol from the overall student body.

 

Idly, he thinks about Jared Kleinman and his ‘school shooter chic’ comment about his hair. They’ve probably found the body by now. He hopes Kleinman feels at least a little bit bad about making fun of him completely unprompted like that. Asshole.

 

He manages to find his way to his first-period class, which is an AP Calculus class. And his second-period class, which is AP English Literature. It turns out it’s not actually that hard to navigate this place, and he pretty much breezes through the day. Almost all of Ben’s classes are AP, which is… fine, probably. Just because Connor doesn’t give a fuck doesn’t mean he can’t do it. Sure, he’s going to have to do a bit of work to make sure he actually knows the things he’s supposed to know, but… he can figure it out. Whenever he did actually try at school, he was an A student without any problems. If he puts a bit of effort in, he can probably get away with this.

 

Plus, studying gives him an excuse not to hang out with Ben’s girlfriend. Which is a good thing, because he has absolutely no idea how he’s supposed to deal with a _girlfriend_ , dammit.

 

There’s a moment when his heart clenches just a little because his first thought is that he should ask Zoe for advice.

 

But he’s never going to talk to Zoe again.

 

Zoe thinks he’s dead.

 

Is Zoe sad he’s gone?

 

Or is she just fucking relieved?

 

Connor knows how he’d feel in her situation. He wouldn’t blame her if she just didn’t fucking care. He never gave her a reason to. All he ever did was make her life more difficult. Make her feel unsafe in her own home. He was so wrapped up in his own crap…

 

He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripping his keys in his pocket until he feels a burst of pain. He curses under his breath, then pulls out his hand to see he’s broken the skin. Fuck.

 

He kind of wants to punch something. A locker. A random passerby.

 

But that’s not what Ben Childs would do.

 

Instead, he goes to the bathroom and cleans up his hand. It’s… not that bad, just a couple of cuts, but he’s got to get a hold on his self-destructive tendencies.

 

Connor looks in the mirror.

 

Ben Childs looks back.

 

“This is such a mindfuck,” he murmurs. Is he talking to himself? To Ben? He has no idea anymore.

 

The door opens and in walks a guy with wild blond hair that’s nowhere near as well kept as pretty much every other male at this school. Connor’s almost envious and tries not to smile at the sight of him because that would be weird, but he appreciates the low-key rebellion. This guy’s still in a blazer, but rather than a shirt he’s in a t-shirt and skinny jeans. With a bit of a jolt, Connor realizes that this guy is… actually pretty attractive.

 

“Ben Childs, as I live and breathe,” says the attractive guy. “Haven’t heard from you in months. What’s going on?”

 

Shit. Ben knows this attractive guy. Fuck. “You know,” he says vaguely. “School. Journalism. The usual.”

 

Connor’s not really sure how, but all of a sudden the attractive guy has him pinned against the wall, and for a moment he’s sure he’s going to get his ass kicked, but all thoughts quickly vanish when the attractive guy kisses him roughly. Whoa. Okay. Not what he was expecting.

 

Connor made out with a guy at a party once, extremely drunk and stoned out of his mind. He doesn’t really remember that so he’s not sure if it really counts, but he’s absolutely, one hundred percent, sober as a judge right now and _oh shit._

 

The guy pulls back and smirks. “Well, glad to see you’ve still got a pulse, at least.” His expression turns soft. “The number I’ve got for you doesn’t work anymore. Trying to kick the habit or trying to shake me off?”

 

“Trying to make it through high school without getting so fucking stressed out I throw myself in front of a taxi,” Connor shoots back without even thinking.

 

The guy turns pale. “Shit. You okay?”

 

Connor shrugs. “Trying to be.” He’s not sure why he says what he does next. “Sorry if I, uh… it wasn’t you, man.”

 

“Give me your phone,” the guy says with a small smile.

 

Connor hands over the black phone, double checking before that it’s not the clone phone. The guy fiddles around with it for a moment then shows the screen before handing it back to him.

 

He’s added himself as a contact.

 

His name’s Jerome.

 

Okay.

 

Connor can absolutely handle this.

 

“In case you wanted company, not product,” Jerome offers, running his hands through his hair a little awkwardly. “I know you’re… I know this isn’t… but I miss hanging out with you.”

 

“I miss hanging out with you, too,” Connor lies. “But… Pippa.”

 

Jerome nods. “Yeah. Pippa.” He kind of frowns. “Last time we were together, you said some things…”

 

“I was really high, it probably didn’t mean anything.”

 

Jerome nods again. “Yeah, you were tripping balls, dude. But there was just… fuck, is everything okay? Really?”

 

Connor’s not sure what to say to that.

 

Because Ben Childs isn’t okay.

 

Ben Childs is dead.

 

Connor does the only thing he can think of.

 

He grabs the lapel of Jerome’s blazer and pulls him in for a heated kiss, right there against the wall of the boys’ bathroom.

 

Fuck it, why not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the fic on https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/ for awesome fanart from cool people and moodboards and stuff!


	10. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a blanket fort and a decision.

Reed considers themself a devout pacifist but they are seriously considering punching Connor Murphy in the face right now.

 

Evan’s still shaking, and Connor’s sitting there next to him, completely useless, so it’s up to Reed to try and get Evan to calm down because if he keeps hyperventilating like this he’s going to pass out.

 

“Do you have any medication you take?” they ask Evan in a calm tone. “Xanax? Anything like that?”

 

Evan shakes his head violently. “I d-d-don’t carry it w-w-with me,” he stammers out. It’s almost like the shaking has completely taken over his body. Reed is growing increasingly concerned. “Haven’t n-n-needed it for so l-l-long.”

 

“Okay,” Reed says calmly. “That’s okay if you don’t have it. We just need to focus on getting you calmer. Can you match your breathing to mine?”

 

Evan kind of nods, and Reed puts their hand on his back and focuses on slowly breathing. It takes a long while, but Evan eventually starts breathing in sync. After a moment, Reed realizes that Connor’s breathing in sync with the two of them. They wonder if he knows he’s doing it. Regardless, it seems to help.

 

Eventually, Evan looks up at Reed, his face pale and tear-stained and drained. “Sorry for freaking out,” he says, his voice small. “You must think I’m such an idiot, oh my god.”

 

“If it had been up to me, I would have floated the whole clone thing a lot softer,” Reed says wryly. “Unfortunately, this asshole has a flair for the dramatic.”

 

Connor has the decency to look embarrassed.

 

Evan’s not looking at Reed anymore. He’s looking at Connor, his expression tight and searching. “Your parents think you’re dead,” he says. “Everyone back home thinks you’re dead.”

 

“They also think we were best friends,” Connor points out, “so I don’t feel like you can judge me on that.”

 

Reed didn’t think it was possible for Evan to go paler, but lo and behold, he’s done it. “You know about that?”

 

“We know about that,” Connor confirms. “We had to keep tabs on what was happening. Make sure things didn’t get out of control.”

 

Evan just stares for a moment, then he lets out a sharp, hollow laugh. “Alana’s technical difficulties,” he says. “It was you.”

 

“Actually, it was Torpedo.”

 

“Torpedo?”

 

“Another one of us,” Reed interjects helpfully. “He’s our go-to computer hacker guy.”

 

Evan shakes his head slowly, like he’s trying to process it all. “It’s just… this is so weird. Non-binary hippy scientist Connor. Computer hacker Connor. What else can I expect? Is there an astronaut in there somewhere?”

 

“It takes like two years to become an astronaut, but you have to have three years of related professional experience or at least a thousand hours of being the pilot in command of a jet aircraft,” says Connor. “So I don’t think we’re old enough just yet.”

 

Evan stares again. “What?”

 

Connor shrugged. “I looked it up. I was high and thinking about space.”

 

Evan’s still staring. The urge to punch Connor has not subsided at all. “I’m really sorry you found out like this,” Reed says, keeping their voice calm. “But you were right - the reason DYAD wanted you to monitor me is because I’m a clone. Like Connor, and Torpedo, and Ben.”

 

“Ben,” Evan repeats. He looks at Connor carefully. “Ben’s the one who died, isn’t he? There had to be a body, and it had to look like you.” His eyes widen. “He had a different haircut. That was the weird thing - your mom mentioned that when they found your body, it had a different haircut. But it wasn’t you.”

 

Connor looks almost impressed. “You don’t miss a fucking thing, do you, Hansen?”

 

“Connor’s been living as Ben Childs for three years now,” Reed explains. “It’s taking awhile, but… we’re getting more pieces of the puzzle. Slowly and surely. We know there are people watching us. We’ve just never had an opportunity like this before.”

 

“You want me to be a double agent,” Evan concludes. He looks terrified. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Connor says caustically. “You’ve been lying to my family for three years, I’m sure you’re more than capable.”

 

Reed takes a deep breath. “Dude, seriously.”

 

“Just calling it as I see it.”

 

“No, you’re being a massive dick.”

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “We’re genetically identical. Our dicks are the same size.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Please stop talking about your dicks,” Evan says in a rush. “I didn’t _want_ to lie to your family.”

 

Connor snorts. “Maybe you didn’t want to, but you did.” He glares at Evan challengingly. “You lied to my family, you made them think I had a friend. And then things got fucked up, and we had to stop you from creating this whole bullshit suicide prevention movement in my memory, and you did the whole thing because you had some weird crush on my sister, don’t deny it-”

 

“Do you want me to tell DYAD that Connor Murphy has been living as Ben Childs for the last three years?” Evan snaps. “Because I could do that.”

 

It goes dead silent.

 

Reed watches as Evan and Connor stare each other down, both radiating anger and frustration.

 

Then Connor starts to laugh. “Damn, Hansen. You didn’t have this much of a spine in high school.”

 

This just seems to make Evan angrier. “We’re not in high school anymore, Connor. And this is bigger than me lying about being your friend. The DYAD Institute is huge. If they can clone human beings, then they can definitely make a college student who’s double-crossing them disappear.”

 

Connor stops laughing.

 

“Okay, I’m going to make some tea,” Reed says slowly. “And we’re going to discuss this calmly like adults. Okay?”

 

Evan kind of deflates and nods. Reed stands up, and Evan scoots as far away from Connor as he can, curling into himself on the edge of the couch. Connor looks at Evan for a long moment, then stares down the bong on the coffee table like it contains all the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

 

Reed has a headache.

 

Fucking hell, when did this get so complicated?

 

They know that Evan had faked a friendship with Connor. They know how tormented Evan was about it, and they’re pretty sure Connor knows, too. And there’s a part of Reed that’s convinced that if it weren’t for Evan’s fake friendship with Connor and the weight of that lie, Evan might not have come to Reed about DYAD’s offer.

 

It might not have been a real friendship, but Reed’s pretty sure there’s a part of Evan Hansen that actually cares about Connor Murphy. Hopefully, that part is strong enough to withstand the fact that Connor’s got three years’ of hurt and frustration he’s been itching to let out.

 

Reed places three cups of tea on a tray to the coffee table then sits between Connor and Evan, taking their cup and taking a sip. It takes a few minutes for the other two to take their cups, but eventually, the three of them are all drinking tea in a slightly less awkward silence than before.

 

“Is there weed in this?” Connor asks.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

Reed blinks. “Shit, sorry Evan.”

 

Evan looks at his cup for a long moment, then shrugs. “I was just reunited with my fake dead best friend from high school. I may as well drink weed.”

 

Connor kind of laughs then looks at Evan. “Sorry I scared you. And yelled at you. And I’m sorry for taking your letter in the computer lab.”

 

Evan kind of deflates. “I really didn’t write it to freak you out.”

 

Reed doesn’t know what this letter says. They’ve never asked, and it’d be weird to now, but they’re insanely curious.

 

“I know you didn’t,” Connor says softly. “I read it properly after I took it, and… fuck, it just made so much fucking sense, and I didn't know how to talk to you, and I was… I’d already made up my mind. I was going to kill myself that night. Your letter had nothing to do with it. I didn’t even remember it was in my hoodie when I went to the park. And then there was Ben and he insisted we swap clothes and I was high and went along with it and… I didn’t mean for you to get wrapped up in it at all.”

 

“I know you didn’t,” Evan replies, equally as soft. “Connor…”

 

“I don’t want to talk about that night.”

 

“You don’t need to,” Evan assures him. “I just wanted to say that… I’m glad you aren’t really dead.”

 

Connor stares at him, his gaze a little disbelieving.

 

Reed is growing increasingly uncomfortable that they are literally sitting in the middle of what should probably be a private conversation.

 

“You know I can’t tell my family,” Connor says, his tone defiant. “You know that, right? This isn’t just a case of the prodigal son going home and my mom and dad and sister welcoming me with open arms. Literally coming back from the dead will fuck them up so much more than me just being gone.”

 

“You don’t know that-”

 

“Not for sure, no. But do you really see it ending well if I drop that bomb on them?” Connor stares at his tea for a moment, then takes a long gulp, swallows and turns back to Evan. “They’d freak out, and that would be bad. But then they’d ask questions I can’t answer without explaining whose body they found. And that just opens up a can of worms that gets me - and all of the rest of us - in a whole world of trouble.” He looks at Reed for a moment, his expression softening just a little, just around the edges. “It’s not just me anymore. It’s all of us.” He turns back to Evan. “Reed’s your friend, right? If you’re not convinced that you should play double-agent for my sake, that’s fine. But Reed doesn’t deserve to have to pay for my mistakes.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to help,” Evan tries to explain. “It’s just that… I’m an only slightly reformed nervous wreck, okay? You just saw me have a complete panic attack. I haven’t had one of those in years. I just… what if I fuck this up? What if I blow your cover? I’m not… I’m not brave. Just because I’ve been lying for years about one thing doesn’t mean I can successfully lie about another thing.”

 

“Don’t think of it as lying,” Connor offers. “Think of it as protecting us.”

 

Evan laughs hollowly. “What makes you think I can protect anyone?”

 

“What makes you think you can’t?”

 

“You won’t be alone in this, Evan,” Reed jumps in. “If anything goes wrong, we’ll protect you. We’ve had to protect ourselves before.”

 

“If you do this,” Connor says seriously, “I promise that I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

 

Evan looks at Connor. There’s an expression on his face that Reed can’t quite place. It might be fondness. “I thought I was the one protecting you.”

 

Connor smirks. “Hey, I’m all for equal opportunity protection.”

 

Evan finishes the rest of his tea in a long gulp, then looks at Reed. “I’m crashing on your couch,” he announces. “I’ve never had to navigate public transport high and I don’t intend to start now.”

 

Reed stands up. “I’ll get the pillows. I have so many pillows.” A thought occurs to them. “Fuck it, I’m making a blanket fort and we’re hotboxing the shit out of it.”

 

Reed can hear Connor laughing as they leave the room to get pillows and blankets. After a moment, they hear Evan’s laughter joining in.

 

Half an hour later, the three of them are curled up in a surprisingly well-crafted fort, passing around a joint and utterly surrounded by pillows and Reed’s extensive collection of soft blankets. Connor takes a hit and is about to pass the joint to Evan when he hesitates slightly.

 

“Does this mean you’re in?”

 

Evan looks at Reed.

 

Evan looks at Connor.

 

He nods.

 

“I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. My grandmother passed away so updates are likely to be less frequent for the next week as I need to travel out of town to sing at her funeral. Thanks for all the lovely comments and feedback on this fic - you're all excellent humans. Take care and don't forget to check out this fic on Tumblr at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com!


	11. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor Murphy's family mourns. Connor listens.

Connor makes it through an entire week as Benjamin Childs before things go wrong.

 

As far as weeks go, it’s not a bad one. He’s starting to get the hang of being Ben, and everything that entails - assignments, social commitments, the school paper. He’s made a couple of important discoveries about Ben.

 

Firstly, teachers _love_ him and are willing to cut him a decent amount of slack if he’s late to class (Connor’s still training himself to actually care about getting places on time). He can’t seem to escape one-on-one discussions with teachers about extra credit projects and general encouragement, which is not at all what he’s used to but he doesn’t entirely hate. There’s a part of him that’s just kind of enjoying the fact that people seem to believe in him.

 

Secondly, girls are constantly coming up to talk to him, which is equal parts hilarious and disturbing. Hilarious because it makes Pippa jealous, and Connor has never had anyone jealous over him in his life and it’s kind of funny. Disturbing, because whenever he’s being spoken to by a girl, Pippa makes a point of showing up and kissing him pointedly, which is… still a little weird. Luckily, Pippa kissing him always seems to be for other people’s benefit and not hers, so Connor thinks he’s managing to cover for his complete lack of attraction to her.

 

Thirdly, Ben has a lot of acquaintances but no one aside from Pippa and Jerome who make any particular effort to talk to him about anything particularly personal. People ask him questions about assignments, classes or the paper, along with the occasional ‘how was your summer?’, but it all feels superficial. Connor’s weirdly reminded of how people interacted with Alana Beck back home. If he actually cared, it’d be kind of lonely, knowing all these people talk to him but… don’t actually connect. Is that how Alana felt?

 

Connor’s actually kind of proud of himself that he’s managing to bluff his way through being the editor of the school paper. He spent an evening reading everything Ben had on his computer in the folder labeled ‘School Paper’ and found a comprehensive schedule for the first couple of months of the year. If there’s one thing he can’t deny about his clone is that he was an exceptionally organized guy. Connor’s fairly confident he’ll be able to get the hang of it based on Ben’s notes, and the rest of the paper staff are decent writers with a decent handle on grammar, so it’s not like he’s having to go in and completely redo articles.

 

Then again, maybe he’s just not good enough at this to figure out it’s wrong. And hey, if it turns out that everything thinks the paper this year is garbage, he’ll just quit. What are Ben’s parents going to do about it? They’re not here.

 

Connor hasn’t had a single message from Ben’s parents since he took over his life.

 

Fuck, that’s depressing.

 

It’s early evening on a Thursday when he gets a phone call from Torpedo.

 

Who sounds pissed off, and more than a little rattled.

 

“There was a fucking _suicide note_ in your hoodie. What the hell, Connor?”

 

Connor frowns. “I didn’t write a suicide note.”

 

“Oh really?” Torpedo says, his voice tight with frustration. “Who the fuck is Evan Hansen, and why is there a letter in your hoodie that they found on the body?”

 

Connor frowns again. “Evan Hansen?”

 

It honestly takes him a minute, but it comes back in a rush. The nervous kid he pushed in the hallway because he thought he heard him fucking laughing and he was already so angry at fucking Kleinman’s school shooter joke. Trying to find him to apologize, because Connor may be a complete asshole but he knew he’d overreacted. Signing his cast in the computer room, then taking the letter off the printer and seeing his sister’s name and flying off the handle.

 

He’d reread the letter a few hours later.

 

And it kind of broke his heart.

 

_I wish everything was different. I wish I was a part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone? I mean face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?_

 

Connor had a plan in place long before he read Evan Hansen’s letter.

 

He didn’t go to that park to kill himself because of Evan Hansen’s letter.

 

But fuck.

 

That moment when he realized that someone else felt the way he did. If there had been any way to give it back, to tell him that… fuck, does it even matter? Would it have even mattered? Because as far as Evan Hansen is concerned, Connor Murphy is dead, and…

 

Wait.

 

What?

 

“They think I wrote that letter?”

 

Torpedo sighs in irritation. “Well, yeah.”

 

“Because it’s addressed to Evan Hansen,” Connor clarifies.

 

“Yes. Obviously.”

 

“But Evan Hansen wrote it.”

 

“To himself?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t fucking know, dude.”

 

Torpedo is growing more and more irritated, that much Conor knows. “So why do you have it?”

 

“He printed it out in the computer lab, and I was going to give it to him, but he mentioned my sister, and I just… took it and left.”

 

“So it wasn’t a suicide note,” Torpedo says, still sounding concerned. “Well, your parents don’t know that.”

 

Connor blinks. “Wait, what?”

 

“Your family thinks you wrote your suicide note to Evan Hansen and that the two of you were best friends.”

 

“What the fuck?” Connor’s head is starting to spin a little. “Wait, how do you know all of this?”

 

Torpedo clears his throat. “I finally got into Ben’s emails. You’re, uh, not gonna love this, but…”

 

“Just spit it out, _Marv_.”

 

“Don’t be a dick.” Torpedo clears his throat again. “So, uh, Ben put a listening device in your house.”

 

Just for an instant, Connor sees red.

 

“What the fuck? What the fuck was he doing?”

 

“I don’t know!” Torpedo yells back. “I guess he was trying to find out more about you. We have a list of clones that live vaguely nearby and we were… I don’t know, trying to see if we should reach out and talk to you about all of this. Ben bugged the houses of other clones as well, not just yours. He’s just trying to get all the information.”

 

“By completely invading people’s privacy like some kind of perv?”

 

“Well, it’s not like he’s listening in, is he?” Torpedo says heatedly. “Because he fucking killed himself.”

 

Connor sits down on the bed and runs his hand through his too short hair.

 

“So, what, there are emails with… recordings of my family?” Connor says, trying to get his head around it. “My family talking about me, my family who think I’m fucking dead?”

 

Torpedo sounds hesitant. “I don’t think you-”

 

“Give me the login details,” Connor demands. “I need to fucking know what they’re saying.”

 

“What good is it going to do?”

 

“Well, for one thing, you said they think Evan Hansen’s my best friend,” Connor points out. “I need to know what kind of bullshit he’s spinning for my parents. The whole point of dying was supposed to be that I’d give them some fucking peace. Let them forget me.”

 

The line goes silent for long enough that Connor thinks Torpedo’s dropped out. He’s about to double check when Torpedo speaks, his voice low.

 

“You went to that park to kill yourself.”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“I… fuck, I… I just thought you happened to be there, I didn’t know you wanted to… what the fuck, Connor?”

 

“Ben got there first,” Connor says quietly. “I didn’t do it because Ben got there first. And now I’m playing Ben, and I’m not… I mean, I don’t know…”

 

“Are you still thinking about it?” Torpedo demands.

 

“What the fuck, dude?”

 

“I’m not losing another one of us,” Torpedo says, his voice a little... off.

 

It takes Connor a moment to realize that Torpedo is… fucking crying.

 

What the fuck.

 

“You barely know me.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t fucking care if you offed yourself.”

 

“Jesus fuck, Torpedo. I’m fine. It’s… fine, I’ll keep playing this stupid game and being Ben and it’s fine-”

 

“It’s not fucking fine!” Torpedo takes in a ragged breath. “You know that if you’re feeling like that, you can… I don’t know fucking know, _talk_ to someone. See a counselor. Get some medication.”

 

Connor snorts. “That’s not how things are done in the Murphy family,” he says snidely. “It’s easier to just send me to rehab or a fucking yoga retreat.”

 

“You’re not in the Murphy family anymore,” Torpedo points out.

 

“You want me to ask Ben’s parents for therapy?”

 

Torpedo sighs. “I don’t fucking know. They’re never there, I know that. So… why the fuck don’t you just… I don’t know, go see a doctor? The Childs are fucking loaded. They might not even fucking notice if you go see a doctor and they prescribe you something that’ll-”

 

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Connor grinds his teeth for a moment, then continues. “Send me the login details for the emails with the recordings.”

 

“Connor-”

 

“Send. Me. The. Login. Details.”

 

Connor ends the call and throws the phone violently against the headboard of his bed.

 

A few minutes later, his phone beeps.

 

Torpedo’s sent through login details.

 

Connor grabs Ben’s laptop and headphones from the desk and sits down on the bed.

 

And promptly starts listening to all the audio recordings from his family’s living room.

 

There are hours and hours of recordings, some of which are entirely devoid of sound because no one’s in the room, so he fast-forwards through those, but otherwise, it’s hours and hours of… a huge fucking mess.

 

There are hours of his mother just sitting weeping.

 

There are heated arguments between his parents over which one of them failed him.

 

There’s his sister’s anger, which cuts even deeper because Connor knows it’s fucking justified.

 

Around 3 am, he stumbles across his parents talking about Evan Hansen and the friendship Connor hid from them. There’s a story about a day at an orchard and discussions of _emails_ , and it’s just… what the fuck.

 

Somewhere inside him, Connor knows this isn’t healthy.

 

He knows that listening to his family mourn him like this isn’t healthy.

 

He is never going to see them again.

 

They think he’s dead.

 

He’s never going to hug his mom again.

 

He kind of wishes he’d hugged her before he left.

 

He keeps listening to the hours and hours of recordings.

 

It’s more of the same.

 

His mother crying. His parents arguing. His sister yelling.

 

At about 8 am, he gets a text from Pippa, telling him she’s outside to pick him up. He shoots back a reply saying that he’s sick, to which she replies with a quick ‘ _eww. feel better’_  that would probably have been a little bit hurtful if he were _actually_ Ben, but…

 

He doesn’t care.

 

He’s been up all night, listening to his family mourn him.

 

There’s something about the stages of grief he can’t really remember off the top of his head right now but he didn’t realize it was going to be so fucking _messy._

 

Part of him had thought - honestly believed - that they’d just… be glad they were finally rid of him.

 

But there are tears and screaming and fury, so much fury, and his father’s disappointment and his sister’s vitriol and he’s listened to his mother cry for _hours_. Literal hours.

 

When Connor was little, he hated hearing his mom cry. If she got sad, all he’d want to do is comfort her, the way little kids do - hugs, bad jokes, a cool looking rock that might cheer her up. As he got older, hearing her cry still hurt, especially the times he caused it, so he’d always… leave. Get out. Not be there. If he didn’t have to hear her cry, then maybe it wasn’t happening.

 

So it’s kind of ridiculous that he’s fucking torturing himself right now, forcing himself to listen to her sob for hours on end.

 

Then again, it’s what he deserves, isn’t it?

 

He deserves to feel this.

 

He deserves to…

 

If he’d actually killed himself, he wouldn’t have to face this. The whole point of killing himself was that he didn’t have to _feel_ anymore.

 

This is so much worse.

 

Maybe Ben Childs is Connor Murphy’s purgatory.

 

His phone beeps.

 

From: Jerome

_Not in today? Everything okay?_

 

To: Jerome

 _no_  
_really fucking not_  
_I know i said I was done_  
_but i need to not be feeling anything rn_ _  
_ what do you have?

 

From: Jerome

 _You at home?  
_ _Gimme 20 min_

 

Twenty minutes later, Connor’s ushering Jerome into the living room. From the looks of it, Jerome’s been here before. He eyes Connor warily.

 

“You look like shit,” he says bluntly.

 

Connor scowls. “I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

 

Jerome raises his hands in surrender. “That’s fair, dude. Let me show you what I’ve got.”

 

Twenty minutes after that, Connor can barely feel a thing. He’s higher than he’s ever been. He can’t remember what it was Jerome gave him, but he feels fucking fantastic and…

 

“I don’t think I’m a real person,” Connor confesses.

 

Jerome kind of laughs but kind of doesn’t. He’s high, too, but clearly has a better tolerance for… whatever this is, as his gaze is still shrewd. Piercing. Like he’s looking right through him.

 

“That’s fucked up, dude.”

 

“I’m pretty fucked up,” Connor says lightly. “I thought you knew that.”

 

Jerome half smiles. “We’re all fucked up, Ben.”

 

Connor kind of jolts at that.

 

Right.

 

Ben.

 

He’s Ben.

 

He’s Ben, and he’s a straight-A student, but he’s not at school - he’s high with his drug dealer slash fuckbuddy, and…

 

God, who the fuck is Ben Childs anyway?

 

That’s right.

 

Purgatory.

 

All of a sudden, Jerome’s lips are on his, and Connor’s not about to let this distraction pass him by. He grabs his shirt and pulls him down toward him, lying back on the too fancy couch, reveling in the sensation of a warm body on his.

 

It’s like feeling nothing and feeling everything, all at once.

 

Maybe it’ll drown out the sounds of sobbing, still ringing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was Nana's funeral and I kind of wanted to think about something else, so I wrote a new chapter. It'll probably be a day or two before I get back into the rather quick update schedule I tend to do with fics as I've got another big day of travel tomorrow, but I hope you've enjoyed this one. 
> 
> As always, feel free to come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com!


	12. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas Freeman, Donna Winterbottom and the Tri-County Country and Western Singing Competition.

Lucas Freeman hates country and western music almost as much as he loves his girlfriend.

 

Okay, he’s probably being a little dramatic, but it’s hour three of sitting in the audience of the Tri-County Country and Western Semi-Finals and he kind of wants to put a stapler through his ear. The only reason he’s here is that Donna’s competing, and he’s pretty sure she’s going to sweep the whole thing because she’s the only person in this building whose singing voice doesn’t make him want to tear his hair out, and he would do pretty much anything for Donna.

 

Also because he’s got a little velvet box burning a hole in his pocket and if Donna wins big today, he’s tempted to take her out for dinner to celebrate and pop the question.

 

He’s been carrying the ring around for a couple of weeks now, trying to figure out how best to properly propose. He doesn’t think he’s got the imagination or the courage to do something crazy and public and over the top, but he doesn’t want to do it wrong. (His cousin was proposed to while she was brushing her teeth and it probably should have been a warning sign, because that marriage lasted less than a year.)

 

A proposal after she thoroughly thrashes the competition at the Tri-County Country and Western Semi-Finals? Lucas thinks she’ll like it.

 

There’s a part of him that’s terrified she’ll say no, but he tells himself it’s just paranoia. _You’re getting worked up over nothing_ , says a stern voice in his head that sounds like his father. _Man up and get over it_. He’s been dating Donna since sophomore year of high school. They’ve talked about their future a few times and while Donna isn’t the kind of person to have a fully laid out five-year plan for their lives, Lucas knows her plans for the future definitely include him. They’ve discussed marriage and they’re on the same page. This is the next step for them, even though they’re only 21.

 

Lucas isn’t the kind of person who’s particularly certain about things as a general rule, but he’s completely, a hundred percent certain that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Donna Winterbottom.

 

He’s also a hundred percent certain that despite being someone who thinks a woman shouldn’t have to change her surname when she gets married, Donna is going to take his last name.

 

An older woman is currently warbling something saccharine about angels and Lucas wishes he could turn off his ears, just for awhile, because it’s terrible. It’s so terrible. She’s got lipstick on her teeth, and she clearly believes in the whole ‘the higher the hair, the closer to God’ thing because the whole thing is defying gravity right now (and the words ‘defying gravity’ remind him of the time he and Donna went to New York City and saw that show on Broadway, he doesn’t remember much of it but he knows the singer was green). Lucas isn’t exactly a music person, but Donna is, so… okay then.

 

Donna’s wanted to be a singer since she was a kid and Lucas has always encouraged her. She was the lead in the spring musical three years running in high school and won so many karaoke competitions at the local karaoke bar that they stopped letting her compete. And then she discovered country and western competitions, and all of a sudden he’s being dragged from pillar to post to listen to a bunch of people sing songs about trucks and dogs and being cheated on and Jesus.

 

They’re at the same college, and Donna’s doing music performance and sociology. The plan is to continue to pursue music professionally but she’s got her backup plan of teaching music and is planning to do a year of grad school to train if she doesn’t get some kind of big break. It’s a weird path, and Lucas doesn’t necessarily understand it, but he’s here for her, whatever she wants to do.

 

It gets a little hard sometimes, seeing her so boldly follow her dreams when his own dreams were quashed by his parents long ago. Lucas wanted to play soccer professionally when he was a kid, and worked hard at it, and was actually pretty good. Good enough that there had been discussions with his coaches about trying out for national teams.

 

Good enough that when Richard Freeman told the coaches in no uncertain terms that Lucas would not be pursuing soccer, there was a period of about 8 months where Lucas worked with his coaches to train for a place in an Under 18 national team anyway.

 

Once his dad found out about that, he pulled the plug completely on everything soccer related, including his volunteer work coaching a team of six-year-olds. That was particularly devastating.

 

Now Lucas is in his junior year of business school, fresh off a summer internship at his father’s company, and it looks like he’ll be following his old man’s footsteps. So what if he’d rather be kicking a soccer ball? His dad’s paying for college. He’ll put his feet where he’s told.

 

Lucas’s parents don’t dislike Donna, but there is the occasional suggestion that he might want to find a more suitable partner, someone who’ll make a better trophy wife once he’s fully engaged in the world of business upon graduating. He’s not sure how they’ll take the news of his engagement, but he doesn’t really care.

 

He’s not giving up Donna.

 

He checks the program in his hand to see Donna’s next item is three performances away and tries to avoid sighing in frustration. She’s already done a ballad and a gospel song, but her last one is contemporary and she’s picked something that Lucas kind of actually enjoys. So he’s looking forward to hearing her, but he’s also looking forward to this whole thing being over.

 

His phone rings.

 

The whole room turns to look at him and he blushes scarlet.

 

Fuck. He was sure he’d turned off his phone before the whole thing started. Fuck.

 

He picks up his bag and scurries out into the foyer as quickly as he can, fumbling through it to find his phone to see it’s still off. But the bag is still ringing.

 

Cold rushes through his body.

 

It’s his clone phone.

 

It takes a few more seconds to grab it but he manages to answer it before the call finishes, not even bothering to check which one of his clones it is. “What’s going on?” he demands.

 

“It’s Reed,” says a familiar voice. “This a bad time?”

 

Lucas looks back at the hall where the woman with lipstick on her teeth is still warbling. “As long as it’s not too long a call, I can talk.”

 

The woman with the lipstick on her teeth fails to hit a high note and Lucas can hear Reed chuckle through the phone. “Where the hell are you?”

 

“I’m at the Tri-County Country and Western Singing Competition Semi-Finals.”

 

“Fucking hell, better you than me.”

 

Lucas chuckles. “I’m not here by choice. Donna’s competing.”

 

“Really?” Reed does actually sound interested, to their credit. “That’s cool. I would say pass on my best wishes, but… you know…”

 

“I know.”

 

The clone situation is… weird, to say the least. In a lot of ways, it doesn’t actually affect Lucas’s day to day life at all. He’s on the fringes of the whole conspiracy, and he knows it. It’s really Torpedo and Connor who do the heavy lifting. Every now and then, though, he gets dragged into a situation and finds himself having to keep the crazy from Donna for however long it takes to get things sorted out.

 

He’s got a feeling he might just be entering a situation.

 

Proposing might have to wait.

 

“What’s going on?” Lucas asks.

 

Reed sighs. “We need to meet face to face as soon as we can,” they say, voice even but concerned. “We kind of have a situation.”

 

Lucas doesn’t always hate being right, but he just might this time. “Is everyone okay?”

 

“Everyone’s fine.”

 

Lucas sighs. “Connor did something stupid, didn’t he.”

 

“Why do you always assume it’s Connor who did something stupid?”

 

“Cos it’s always Connor who does something stupid.”

 

“I feel like that’s a bit unfair,” Reed says, a hint of a frown in their tone.

 

“Well, did he?”

 

There’s a long pause. “Kind of.”

 

Lucas groans. “Fucking hell.” In the background of the call, Lucas can hear a faint but annoyed voice telling him to go fuck himself. “Say hi to Connor for me,” he tells Reed.

 

“Lucas says hi,” he hears Reed say. There’s a muffled, vulgar response. “When’s the soonest you can get to my place?”

 

“As much as I don’t want to be here, I can’t just leave until Donna’s mopped the floor with all these idiots,” Lucas says, trying to keep his voice quiet enough so none of the idiots overhear him. “Maybe tomorrow? I don’t know.” He clears his throat. “I don’t mean to be a dick, but… is this life or death?”

 

“No,” Reed assures him. “But it’s important. We have… it’s an opportunity and I think we need to all discuss it.”

 

Lucas is curious despite himself. “Okay.” He kind of chuckles. “Guess I’d better not propose tonight, then.”

 

There’s a pause, then Reed gasps. “Wait, you were going to propose to Donna tonight?”

 

“Well, I’m not going to do it if I have to immediately leave town,” he responds irritably. “That’s just a dick move.”

 

“Oh my god, congratulations.” From the background of the call, Lucas thinks he can hear Connor making some snarky remark about how she hasn’t said yes yet. “Connor, don’t be a dick. And don’t make that dumbass joke again.”

 

Lucas doesn’t want to know. “I’ve been planning it for awhile,” he confesses. “I figured if she won, it might be… I don’t know, nice.” Before Reed can say anything else, he presses on. “And before you say ‘if she wins’, she is legitimately the most talented person here and if she doesn’t win there is something wrong with the universe.”

 

“That’s cute,” Reed says. They sigh. “Sorry to ruin your plans.”

 

“It’s okay,” Lucas says, even though he is a little disappointed. “I’ll figure something else out.”

 

“Maybe we can help brainstorm proposal ideas,” Reed says brightly. “You could propose in a hot air balloon.”

 

“She’s afraid of heights, but cute idea.”

 

“You could write her a poem?”

 

“No one wants that.”

 

“Tie the ring to your dick next time you do the nasty!” he hears Connor yell. 

 

Lucas snorts despite himself. “Tell Connor he’s an asshole.”

 

“Oh, he already knows.”

 

“I’ll confirm if I can come tomorrow,” Lucas promises. “Donna’s about to sing, so I need to go.”

 

“Go, Donna!” Reed says cheerfully. Lucas appreciates it, despite the fact that Donna has never met any of his clones and all going well, never will.

 

He manages to make his way to the back of the hall just as Donna gets on the stage, and he can’t help but smile at the sight of her. Her curly red hair is piled on top of her head, she’s wearing something sparkly and ridiculous and she takes the microphone with this fierce, confident expression that reminds him, once again, that he’d probably burn down the world for this woman if he had to.

 

As expected, she blows everyone away, and half an hour later they’re presenting her with the grand prize and entry into the finals. Lucas gets on his feet and claps as loud as he can and she winks at him from the stage, then makes a beeline for him the minute the show’s over.

 

“I did it!” she exclaims, grabbing him and kissing him fiercely.

 

“I knew you would,” he assures her with a broad grin.

 

“We should celebrate,” she says. “Can we get waffles?” Her eyes light up. “Oh my god, and a bourbon milkshake. I would kill for a bourbon milkshake.”

 

“I can just buy you one,” Lucas points out with a grin. “No murder necessary.”

 

There’s a diner around the corner from their apartment that has exactly what Donna’s clearly craving, and they spend a few companionable hours there, eating waffles, drinking milkshakes, exchanging sarcastic remarks about the other competitors and talking about whatever comes into their heads. Every now and then, Lucas reaches into his pocket to make sure the velvet box is still in there, ready to bring out when the time comes.

 

Once he’s sorted out whatever’s going on with his clones, he’ll do it.

 

He’s ready. He’s more than ready.


	13. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor makes a lot of bad decisions.

Connor wakes up to the smell of a coffee, a stinking headache and someone gently shaking him awake.

 

“Fuck off, Zoe,” he mutters.

 

“Who’s Zoe?” asks a masculine voice. He opens his eyes and looks up to see Jerome standing awkwardly with 2 cups of coffee.

 

Connor sits up in bed and takes the coffee sheepishly. “Thanks,” he says. Jerome smiles, a lopsided grin that makes Connor’s stomach twist just a little bit, then sits back down in bed next to him.

 

He takes a sip of coffee and the events of the previous day come back in pieces. They’d spent the day stoned out of our their minds and… yup, they’d had sex, Connor realizes with a bit of a jolt. Guess Torpedo was right that Ben was definitely fucking his dealer, as Jerome seems to find it completely normal to wake up in bed with him and even knows where the coffee is.

 

“How’s the head?” Jerome asks. “You went pretty hard on the gin. Guess you were higher than I thought - last time we hung out you told me that gin was the devil’s urine.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve changed my mind on that,” Connor says, semi-honestly. “Jesus fuck.”

 

“Not that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy myself,” Jerome says conversationally, “but you want to tell me why we spent all day yesterday high off our asses having sex in every room of this house?”

 

Connor tries not to spit out his coffee at that. A part of him wants to curl up in the bed and never have to look this guy in the eye again, but the other part is just… well…

 

Sure, he can’t really remember losing his virginity to this painfully attractive drug dealer, but at least he didn’t half-ass it. Jesus fucking Christ.

 

Connor shrugs. “Got bored?”

 

Jerome snorts. “Bullshit. When does Ben Childs have time to get bored?” Connor doesn’t respond, and Jerome frowns deeply. “What the hell is with you? Ever since school started, you’re just… not yourself.”

 

“How can you tell I’m not myself?” Connor says, feigning a joking tone to hide the growing realization that he’s clearly fucked up somewhere. “I’m a teenager, I’m supposed to be figuring out who I am. If I don’t know yet, how can you?”

 

“Did something happen over the summer?” Jerome demands. “We were at that party, you ordered a metric fuckton of Adderall then I didn’t see you for months and you weren’t answering the number you gave me to contact you. Then when school starts, you’re throwing caution out the window and making out with me in the school bathroom when you’d only ever even touch me when we were here before… not that I’m complaining about the bathroom make-outs or the sex marathon, but…”

 

“What do you want from me?” Connor asks.

 

Jerome hesitates for a moment. “I just want to know if you’re okay, man.”

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Connor says, stressing the last word as much as he can. “I mean, I’m hungover as fuck and I could definitely use a joint, but otherwise I’m fine.”

 

Jerome frowns. “Since when do you smoke pot?”

 

“Since this summer,” Connor ventures, hoping he’ll get away with it. He sighs. “Look, things are… complicated. If I could tell you, I would, but… don’t worry, I’ve got a handle on it.”

 

Jerome just looks at him, expression troubled. Connor leans in and kisses him, and he kisses back, and then he grabs his hip and pulls him toward him, and…

 

An hour and a half later, they’re panting on the bed and Connor has decided that sex is his new favorite coping mechanism, because it’s definitely enough to shut his brain off for awhile. Which is completely what he needs.

 

There’s a small part of him that feels like he’s using Jerome, which kind of sucks because he does actually seem like a good dude, but… Connor’s a selfish asshole and he’s not planning on changing that anytime soon.

 

Not while he’s living someone else’s life.

 

They kind of lie there for a while, half asleep and intertwined, and it’s nice in a way that Connor doesn’t want to think about too much - kind of like a dream, or an out of body experience, or something that’s not his life.

 

Then they’re rudely interrupted by Jerome’s phone. It takes a while to find it, but he does eventually, and there’s a short conversation followed by him putting his clothes back on and apologizing. “Work stuff,” he says by way of explanation, and Connor just kind of nods in response. Jerome stops for a moment and looks at him, brown eyes piercing, and Connor stares back, not sure what’s going on.

 

It looks like he’s about to say something.

 

He doesn’t. He just grabs his bag, nods a little and leaves.

 

Connor goes back to sleep.

 

When he wakes up, it’s dark, and he feels sick to his stomach. It takes him awhile to fumble his way to the bathroom, but when he does he unceremoniously empties the contents of his stomach (which, admittedly, is mostly alcohol) and sits on the floor for a while, head spinning with fragments of thoughts he can’t quite make sense of.

 

His mother sobbing for hours and hours.

 

Jerome’s hands on his hips.

 

Zoe’s angry voice, bitterly saying that her brother was a bad person.

 

The burning sensation of straight gin.

 

Emails from Evan Hansen.

 

Emails from Evan Hansen?

 

For some reason, it’s the only thing he can get a grasp on. Evan Hansen, spinning a lie to his family about how they were best friends.

 

Like anyone would really put up with Connor’s bullshit.

 

He gets up. He has a shower but doesn’t really do much more than just stand under the hot water and think about this fucked up situation with Evan Hansen and his emails.

 

Evan Hansen, spending time with his family.

 

Evan Hansen, telling his mourning family that Connor actually had a fucking friend.

 

Evan Hansen, who’s got some creepy crush on his sister.

 

Jesus fuck.

 

He gets out of the shower, goes to Ben’s closet and tries to find something to wear that’s not a fucking blazer. Near the back, he finds a grey hoodie with a zip up the front, which kind of reminds him of the one he was wearing when he went to the park.

 

The one Ben was wearing when the body was found.

 

The one he put that stupid ‘Dear Evan Hansen’ letter in.

 

Once he’s dressed, he finds himself gathering his belongings and heading out of the apartment, taking the elevator down to the parking lot. He gets in Ben’s car. He turns on the radio, then turns off the radio because everything is shit, and he starts driving.

 

He’s been driving for hours when it kind of hits him where he’s going.

 

He’s going home.

 

What the fuck. He can’t go home.

 

He can’t just waltz on into the Murphy household and yell at his parents and his sister, or hug his parents and his sister. He can’t go there. He can’t do that to them. It’ll break them.

 

It’s nearly two in the fucking morning.

 

He gets out his phone, looks up an address and drives there. It’s only a few blocks from his house but it's a place he's never been.

 

He remembers something his mother said in the hours and hours of recordings.

 

That Evan Hansen’s mother works long shifts at the hospital and isn’t home a lot.

 

Given that Evan Hansen is… Evan Hansen, it’s pretty likely he’s the only one home.

 

From the street, he can see a tree leading up to an open window of the house in question. The driveway is empty.

 

Connor parks on the street.

 

Then he climbs the tree leading to the open window and breaks into Evan Hansen’s house.

 

It’s not particularly graceful, but he manages to climb through the window without making too much noise. As luck would have it, he seems to have climbed right into Evan Hansen’s bedroom. It’s all very mid-nineties teen television show, which is kind of ridiculous. The room is dark but he can make out various details in the shadows - closet door, chest of drawers, lamp, twin bed. There’s a pile of papers on a table next to the bed and a small box. And in the bed, there’s Evan Hansen, quietly snoring.

 

Connor has not thought this through.

 

But he’s here now, and… well…

 

He grabs the edge of the window and slams it as loud as he can.

 

Evan wakes up with a jolt and switches on the lamp next to his bed.

 

Then stares right at him, eyes wide.

 

“We weren’t friends,” Connor says bluntly. “Stop telling everyone we were.”

 

“Holy shit,” Evan says quietly.

 

Connor doesn’t think he’s ever heard this kid swear. It's kind of unsettling, like seeing a teacher in a supermarket or hearing a white girl rap. “Also you need to stay the hell away from my family. Especially my sister. I know you have a weird crush on her.”

 

“Are you…” Evan trails off, then actually, genuinely _pinches_ himself. He winces, then looks back at Connor. “I’m not dreaming?”

 

Connor shrugs. “Guess not.”

 

“You’re dead.”

 

Connor nods. “Yep,” he lies cheerfully, weirdly enjoying the absolute confusion on Evan's face. “I’m dead, and I’m haunting you because you’re a dick.”

 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Evan says in a rush. “Your parents just assumed… because of the letter, and… they were so sad and I…”

 

“I’m not saying you need to tell them the truth,” Connor finds himself saying. “But you need to fucking stay away from them. Don’t get involved. They’re not your family.”

 

“I know they’re not,” Evan mumbles. “But they keep inviting me over.”

 

Connor snorts. “So say no.”

 

“I think it makes them feel close to you?” Evan says hesitantly. “They miss you.”

 

“They miss the _idea_ of me,” Connor says bitterly. “They don’t know me. And _you_ didn’t know me _either,_  so… quit trying to make me into something I wasn’t. All your bullshit emails… that’s not me and you know it and I know it and they probably know it, too.”

 

“Okay,” Evan says quietly, hanging his head a little. “It wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to… I just…” He trails off and kind of sighs, hugging the blankets to himself in a way that kind of twists Connor’s stomach a little. “If it had been me, no one would have had anything to say. I didn’t… I’m really sorry.”

 

“Whatever,” Connor replies in a huff. “Just… stay away from my family. Especially my sister.”

 

Evan nods vigorously. He hasn’t really stopped staring the whole time, his eyes wide and frightened. “What’s it like being dead?” he blurts out.

 

Connor lets out a sharp laugh. “Not what I expected,” he replies.

 

It’s probably the most honest thing he’s said all day.

 

“Why’d you cut your hair?”

 

“What?”

 

Evan gestures to him awkwardly. “Before you died, you cut your hair. I just… was wondering.”

 

Connor shrugs. “I just did,” he replies gruffly. “No need to make a big deal of it.”

 

“Your mom thought it was, like, symbolic?”

 

Connor snorts. “Whatever.” He gestures to the window. “I’m gonna go. Don’t make me come haunt you again.”

 

Evan frowns as Connor opens the window. “Why are you climbing out the window? Shouldn’t you just… disappear or something?”

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Hansen, I’m dead. If I wanna climb out the window, I’ll climb out the fucking window.”

 

“Okay, I guess.” Evan lets out an awkward laugh. It reminds Connor of the first day of school. “This is my first time being haunted.”

 

“This is my first time haunting,” Connor admits as he awkwardly positions himself in the tree outside Evan’s window. Before he can stop himself, he kind of smirks at Evan. “How did I do?”

 

“About a seven.”

 

“Just a seven?”

 

Evan has the tiniest smile on his face as he replies. “Well, you would have got a ten if you’d disappeared into thin air. Climbing out the window isn’t very spooky.”

 

“Fuck you, Evan Hansen,” Connor says, without any real heat.

 

He climbs down the tree, walks to Ben’s car and gets in.

 

He’s exhausted.

 

He starts driving.

 

He’s not a hundred percent sure where he’s going this time, either, but he thinks Evan Hansen might actually mind his own fucking business after his (admittedly lackluster) haunting attempt.

 

The fact that the kid didn’t completely freak out at the sight of him kind of bugs Connor, in a way. Maybe Evan’s used to his brain pulling weird shit as well.

 

He ends up in New Jersey.

 

Outside Torpedo’s house.

 

Connor’s too tired to keep driving but he’s not stupid enough to go to sleep in his car outside his clone’s house - what if someone sees him and freaks out? Quietly, cautiously, he sneaks around the side of the house and sees if the door into Torpedo’s basement room is open.

 

It is.

 

He lets himself in and tries to remember exactly where the couch is so he can get some goddamn sleep. Instead, he bangs his knee on… something and lets out a pained yelp.

 

A light turns on.

 

“What the fuck?” says Torpedo’s bleary voice. He looks a little panicked at the sight of Connor. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Road trip,” Connor says bluntly. “I went home.”

 

Torpedo’s definitely awake now. “You fucking didn’t, did you? Oh my god. What did you do?”

 

“Told Evan Hansen to stay the fuck away from my family,” Connor admits.

 

“He knows you’re alive?”

 

“He thinks I’m a ghost. At least, I’m pretty sure he does.”

 

“Oh my god,” Torpedo says, burying his face in his hands. “Connor, you need to-”

 

“Look, I’m fucking exhausted,” Connor interrupts. “Can I just crash on your couch? You can yell at me in the morning, just… let me sleep now, okay?”

 

Torpedo glares at him for a moment then exhales. “Fine. But I’m sure as fuck yelling at you in the morning.”

 

Connor kicks off his shoes. Torpedo gets up and rummages around for… something, Connor’s not sure what, but eventually he’s being given a pillow and a blanket so it’s probably that.

 

He’s asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

 

He wakes up to the sound of voices.

 

“- don’t see why we have to have this conversation in person.”

 

“Because it’s fucking serious, Lucas, don’t be an asshole.”

 

“What the fuck,” Connor grumbles as he sits up.

 

Torpedo’s at his computer desk, and there are 2 lanky figures standing next to him. It takes a minute for Connor’s brain to catch up. There’s Reed, pink hair spiked into a true Mohawk today, wearing something floral and ridiculous, watching Connor with a troubled expression. And then there’s Lucas, with his short-cropped hair, jeans and what looks like some kind of sports shirt thing (soccer, maybe?) who just looks… annoyed.  

 

Torpedo’s expression as he looks at Connor is very, very concerned.

 

“We need to talk to you,” says Torpedo seriously. “This is a clonetervention.”


	14. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor, Lucas, Reed and Torpedo eat chocolate chip cookies.

“This is kind of nice. All four of us, here together. When was the last time we did that?”

 

Connor tries to think back. “Like… a year ago, maybe?”

 

Torpedo looks thoughtful. “Yeah, it would be,” he says with a nod. “We only seem to catch up when things are going horribly wrong.”

 

“We only catch up when Connor’s done something stupid, you mean,” Lucas points out.

 

Connor thinks it’s a real testament as to how far he’s come in life that his immediate reaction isn’t to punch Lucas in the face.

 

“Connor didn’t do anything,” Reed protests.

 

“To be fair, that’s not strictly true,” Connor admits.

 

The four of them are in Reed’s apartment. It’s about midday on a Sunday, and it is indeed the first time they’ve been physically in the same place in at least a year. It’s not the most common thing in the world, getting them all together, but these days seeing everyone in one place is… weirdly nice.

 

Connor wasn’t exactly super close to his extended family growing up, but he imagines it’s probably similar to seeing cousins or something like that.

 

Except that cousins don’t usually have the same face.

 

“My mom made us cookies,” Torpedo announces, pulling a Tupperware container from his bag and putting it on the coffee table. “And she says hi.”

 

“She still thinks we’re your internet friends from that online game thing, right?” Reed asks, making a beeline for the cookies. They open the container and grin. “Sweet! Chocolate chip!”

 

“Yeah, she still thinks we all play WOW together,” Torpedo confirms, taking a cookie.

 

“I still think that’s really fucked up,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. That doesn’t stop him from taking a cookie. Torpedo’s mom’s cookies are really fucking delicious.

 

Lucas looks at the Tupperware container with a slightly hesitant expression, before taking a cookie and brandishing it accusingly at Connor. “So what did you do?” he asks. He takes a bite of the cookie and kind of glares at Connor.

 

“It wasn’t Connor’s fault,” Reed insists. “And this isn’t necessarily a bad thing that’s happened. We just need to have a game plan.”

 

“Are you going to actually tell us what happened anytime soon?” Torpedo asks.

 

“Evan Hansen knows we’re clones,” Connor says flatly.

 

Torpedo drops his cookie. “Dude, what the fuck?”

 

“DYAD approached him,” Reed explains, “because they found out we’re friends. They wanted him to be my monitor.”

 

Lucas frowns. “So, what, Connor found out that he’s Reed’s monitor and told him everything?”

 

“Evan came to _me_ ,” says Reed. “He came to me because DYAD was offering him, like, a fuckton of money to report on me and he thought it was weird so he came to tell me that he wouldn’t do it.”

 

The room is silent for a few moments. Torpedo’s the first one to speak. “Holy fuck. That’s… so he turned them down?”

 

“I told him not to,” Reed says. “Because if it’s not him, it’s someone else, and at least we know what’s being said. He’s agreed to be a double agent.” Reed leans forward. “Don’t you get it? This is a chance to find out more about DYAD. This is the biggest lead we’ve ever had about them.”

 

“How does Connor fit into all of this?” Lucas asks.

 

“I was there when Evan came over,” Connor admits. “I was hiding in the bedroom listening in. Evan put it together - he asked Reed if the reason why DYAD wanted to monitor him was that he looked like me. Evan’s not stupid and he’s proved he can be trusted. I came out and told him the truth.”

 

“And nearly gave him a fucking heart attack in the process,” Reed points out with a roll of their eyes. “We could have done without _that_ drama, thank you.”

 

“So he knows you’re alive,” Torpedo says. “And he knows you and Reed are clones. Does he know about the rest of us?”

 

“He knows there are others,” Connor confirms. “We told him that much. But he doesn’t know anything about you, and we’re going to keep it that way. The less he knows about us, the safer he is if DYAD realizes he’s playing both sides.”

 

Lucas frowns. “Does he know what he’s getting into? There’s a reason we’ve never had any real leads on DYAD before now. They’re dangerous. How do we know he’s not going to just go back to DYAD and tell them what he knows now?”

 

“What is he going to tell them?” Connor asks. “Seriously, though - they know we’re clones. They made us.”

 

“They might not know we’re in contact with each other,” Torpedo points out. “Evan could tell them that. And he could tell them that Connor Murphy isn’t dead.” He looks at Connor. “You told him you were Connor, didn’t you. Not just another clone, but the real Connor Murphy who he thought was dead.”

 

Connor remembers the fire in Evan’s eyes when he yelled at him about his stupid crush on his sister and the weird way he got involved in his family’s life.

 

He remembers Evan’s response.

 

_Do you want me to tell DYAD that Connor Murphy has been living as Ben Childs for the last three years? Because I could do that._

 

Connor’s ninety-nine percent sure Evan wouldn’t actually do that.

 

But he’s got to admit - seeing Evan get all worked up and confrontational was… kind of hot.

 

Reed looks at him, and he can tell they’re thinking about Evan’s threat, too. Reed raises an eyebrow and Connor shakes his head, ever so slightly. Reed looks back at Torpedo and Lucas. “He’s not going to say anything to DYAD.”

 

“I don’t like this,” says Lucas, folding his arms defensively and leaning back on the couch. “The more people who know, the more likely it is for everything to go to hell.”

 

“I couldn’t just _not_ tell him,” Connor says defensively. “He’ll have figured it out.”

 

“How, exactly, would he have figured it out?” Lucas points out. “No one immediately thinks human cloning when they see people who look alike.”

 

“Pretty sure there are plenty of people who immediately think human cloning.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“So what are we doing about this?” Reed interrupts, looking at them all intently. “We have this opportunity, we shouldn’t waste it. What do we want to know?”

 

Connor immediately feels something in his stomach twist. “I don’t think we should make Evan go poking around or anything,” he says, frowning a little. “At least, not straight away. It’s too dangerous.”

 

“I agree,” Lucas says, with a tone of surprise, and Connor kind of scowls because he fucking hates it when he agrees with Lucas on something. “From what I remember about this guy, he’s not exactly James Bond.”

 

Connor’s stupid brain immediately conjures up an image of Evan in a well-tailored suit. He hopes he’s not blushing.

 

“He’d look good in a suit, though,” Reed says with a devious grin in Connor’s direction. Lucas sighs loudly. Reed grins again. “Ah, there it is - Lucas’s famous ‘I don’t have time for your homosexual nonsense’ sigh.”

 

“I always read it more as an ‘if we’re genetically identical I don’t understand why so many of my clones are super fucking queer’ sigh,” Connor chimes in.

 

“I’m sure Evan Hansen looks very nice in a suit,” Lucas says irritably. “But that’s kind of beside the point here.”

 

“I think we should just get him to report back on what they’re asking him about Reed,” Torpedo says matter-of-factly. “It’s a good place to start - figuring out exactly what it is they want to know about us.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” Connor says with a nod. “It’s low-risk and it’ll give us more information. This is a big opportunity. We can’t blow it by trying to do too much, too fast.”

 

“Also Evan’s pretty nervous,” Reed points out. “He’s agreed to help but we need to keep it simple.”

 

“I promised him I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him,” Connor says.

 

His clones all stare at him.

 

“How are we supposed to do that?” Lucas asks, a little irritated. “You can’t just go around promising people shit like that. This whole situation is messed up and dangerous and… we’ve lost so many people already.”

 

“Who said anything about 'we'?” Connor shoots back, feeling his own irritation grow. “I promised him I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. Me. I’ll make sure of it. It’s got nothing to do with the rest of you.”

 

“He’s Reed’s monitor, not yours,” Torpedo points out.

 

“Yeah, but he’s my…” Connor falters.

 

He doesn’t know what Evan Hansen is to him.

 

“Your what?” Lucas says with a roll of his eyes. “Your fake dead best friend? The guy you haunted in high school? Your clone’s lab partner?”

 

“He’s my past, I guess,” Connor says slowly. “He’s the closest thing I’ve got to a link to my old life. In case you all forgot, my entire family thinks I’m dead. Pretty sure I’m the only one who’s got that shit to deal with.” He shoots Lucas a challenging look. “You’ve got your girlfriend and your parents, Torpedo’s mom makes him homemade cookies, Reed’s got their moms. I don’t have that. So forgive me if I’d rather not get the only connection I have to being Connor fucking Murphy brutally killed in the name of this fucked up clone conspiracy.”

 

They’re all quiet for a while.

 

“You’ve got us,” Reed says, breaking the silence. “You’re not alone. You know that, right?”

 

“Of course we’re not going to let anything happen to Evan,” Lucas says, his tone apologetic. “If he’s on our side, then we’ll keep him safe.” He looks at Connor, expression serious. “We’re all in this together.”

 

“Don’t you dare quote fucking High School Musical at me.”

 

“You’ve just admitted you’ve seen High School Musical.”

 

Connor snorts. “Of course I have, I have a little sister.” Reality hits. “Had a little sister.”

 

“It’d be good to know more about the monitoring system eventually,” Torpedo says, in what’s clearly a deliberate subject change. “I mean, there aren’t that many people in my life. If I have a monitor, it’s probably my mom and she’s… well, she’s really passionate about giving me my space to do what I want to do and me giving her space to do what she wants to do, so I can’t really see her… I don’t know, snooping around and reporting tons of personal info about me to some shady organization.”

 

“Pippa was pretty shit at the whole monitor thing,” Connor admits. “That last year of high school, I was pretty fucking terrible at being Ben Childs and she just… didn’t seem to notice.”

 

“You’re still pretty fucking terrible at being Ben Childs.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I think Donna’s your monitor,” Torpedo says to Lucas. “I know you don’t want to hear it-”

 

“Because it’s not true,” Lucas interrupts. “She’s not my monitor. I’d know.”

 

Torpedo sighs. “I’m not saying she’s necessarily part of some shady scientific organization and is secretly performing experiments on you while you sleep. I’m just saying that it’s entirely possible that she’s… you know, getting some info on you for DYAD. She’s the closest person to you, it makes sense that they’d try to rope her in.”

 

“Donna and I have been together since high school,” Lucas says stubbornly. “I know her. We don’t have secrets from each other and she wouldn’t be spying on me.”

 

“Isn’t she an actress?” Connor points out, fully aware that he’s kind of being a dick but not really caring, because this is Lucas, after all. “If she’s a good enough actress, you wouldn’t know.”

 

“She’s a singer,” Lucas shoots back, nostrils kind of flaring with annoyance.

 

Connor adds another tally to his mental scoreboard of how many times he has successfully pissed off Lucas.

 

“Hopefully with our new contact at DYAD, we’ll get a better idea about the whole monitor thing,” Torpedo points out. He kind of smiles at this. “You were right. This could be a great opportunity for us. If we take it slow and try not to raise suspicions, we could start getting some more answers.”

 

Connor helps himself to another cookie and sits back on the couch. “Here’s hoping,” he says, before taking a bite.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to say hi at https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/ !


	15. THEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There's a lot of discussion of suicide in this chapter.

“Okay, first of all - what the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “How much time have you got?”

 

Torpedo takes a deep breath and lets it out as calmly as he can manage. He’s been fighting the urge to panic ever since Connor crashed into his room in the middle of the night. He’d texted Reed and Lucas almost immediately, telling them to get their butts to his place as soon as they could, then tried to get back to sleep but utterly failed.

 

Meanwhile, Connor had slept like the dead, kind of snoring on and off but every now and then going deadly silent and freaking Torpedo the fuck out.

 

Torpedo’s having a very hard time staying calm at the moment.

 

Because he just… he fucking can’t lose another one.

 

He just can’t.

 

Reed seems to share his concern. They’d arrived first and Torpedo had explained, as quietly as he could, that Connor had admitted he was intending to kill himself the day he found Ben in the park. Reed hadn’t seemed particularly shocked by this revelation, which leads Torpedo to believe that they already knew.

 

Lucas had only just arrived when Connor woke up and was not exactly happy to be there, which… honestly, didn’t surprise Torpedo in the slightest. Connor had said some scathing things about Lucas after their initial Skype meeting, and Lucas had had plenty to say about the ‘greasy haired emo asshole’ as well. Torpedo’s pretty certain they’ll never be best friends, but they’re going to have to learn how to fucking coexist, because…

 

Torpedo’s not losing another one.

 

He’s fucking not.

 

“You need to see a doctor or a therapist or something,” Torpedo says firmly.

 

Connor snorts. “You’re not my mom.”

 

Torpedo crosses his arms. “No, your mom thinks you’re dead.”

 

Connor’s expression darkens. “Don’t fucking talk about my family.”

 

“If you’re going to keep pretending to be Ben, we need you to be stable,” Lucas says, his tone flat. “Listen to Torpedo and go get some crazy pills or whatever.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Fuck _you_.”

 

“What would I even tell a therapist?” Connor demands. “My clone killed himself right in front of me just when I was about to kill myself and now I’ve taken over his life. Also, there are three other assholes with my face who won’t stop fucking harassing me. What’s that you’re writing on your notepad? Are you trying to figure out what size straitjacket I need for when you throw me in a fucking rubber room? Can I get one in black?”

 

“A therapist might not be the best plan,” Reed says calmly. “But a doctor isn’t the worst idea. Depression is a chemical imbalance in your brain. Medication to sort that out could actually help.”

 

“Who said I was fucking depressed?”

 

“The bags under your eyes and that disgusting hoodie did.”

 

“ _Fuck you_ , Lucas.”

 

“Can you stop baiting him for five minutes, Lucas?” Torpedo snaps. He’s got a fucking headache, right behind his eyes. “You’re not helping.”

 

“You’re the one who dragged me out here.”

 

Connor throws his hands up in annoyance. “See? Even my fucking clone doesn’t want to deal with my fucking issues.”

 

“I never asked to be your clone, asshole,” Lucas sneers. “A fucked up pothead who’s so selfish he’d rather just off himself than get his shit together? Harden the fuck up, dude - everyone has problems.”

 

“That’s _enough_ ,” Reed says forcefully before Connor can respond. Reed’s tone is enough to get everyone to shut up for a moment. “Lucas, you’re being an asshole.”

 

“Just because-”

 

“Connor needs _help_.” Reed takes a deep breath. It takes Torpedo a moment to notice that Reed’s breathing is getting a little ragged. They’re trying not to fucking lose it. “Ben needed help, too, and we didn’t know. We didn’t know and we didn’t help him and… that’s on us.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Connor says quietly. “It’s not your fault he did what he did.”

 

“We should have known-”

 

“It’s not your fault.” Connor lets out a breath and goes to put his hand through his hair, kind of missing it as though he’s still expecting more to be there. “If anything, I should have stopped him. I was _there_.”

 

“He made his decision,” Torpedo says solemnly.

 

Lucas snorts. “It was a fucking selfish decision-”

 

“Just because you’ve never been there doesn’t mean you can judge people who have,” Connor snaps at Lucas. “I know you’re happy with your… kicking balls and shit but it doesn’t mean that people aren’t… that people don’t…” He kind of folds into himself on the sofa. “We’re not the same. Just because we look the same, doesn’t mean we’re the same.”

 

“No shit,” Lucas mutters.

 

“We don’t want to lose you,” Torpedo says to Connor. “None of us do.”

 

“Pretty sure Lucas doesn’t care if I live or die,” Connor says darkly.

 

Lucas kind of lets out a weird choking sound. “I never said I wanted you dead, asshole.”

 

“Bite me, you obnoxious _fuck_.”

 

“I didn’t just drag everyone here because of Connor,” Torpedo says firmly. “I mean, that’s one of the reasons, but the other reason is… we need to talk about what I found in Ben’s email.”

 

Connor kind of starts at that, and fumbles around in his pocket, then hands Torpedo a USB drive. “This is everything off Ben’s computer as well,” he says, pointedly not looking at anyone. “It’s kind of a mess, but… I guess you’ll figure it out.”

 

“What did you find in Ben’s email?” Lucas asks with a frown.

 

“Lots of surveillance,” Torpedo begins. “Of Connor’s place. He bugged the living room. I listened to some of it to make sure Connor’s parents don’t have any suspicions that the body they found isn’t Connor.”

 

“They definitely think it’s me who’s dead,” Connor chimes in bitterly. “Pretty sure it’s the best thing I ever did for my sister. She fucking hates me.”

 

“You listened to the recordings?” Reed asks Connor. Connor shrugs and looks away.

 

Torpedo wants to punch his past self for giving Connor the login details.

 

“Ben bugged a couple of other houses,” Torpedo continues, trying to work past the waves of guilt. “Douglas Acker and Scott Holland. They’re all… fairly normal. They’re other clones within about a 6-hour drive of here. I think Ben was just trying to keep tabs on them.”

 

“Because that’s not creepy at all,” Connor mutters.

 

“I think we can just… ignore that, for the time being,” says Torpedo. “But last night we got another voice message email from Europe.”

 

Lucas frowns. “What do you mean another?”

 

Torpedo winces. “Shit, I didn’t tell you guys.”

 

“Tell us what?” Reed asks.

 

“Ben had a message from a British clone on his computer,” Connor fills in. “Aaron, I think?”

 

“Eric,” Torpedo confirms. “Eric Brownrigg. The message said that the clone experiment is global and that someone is hunting and killing the North American clones. And that he was coming to the States to explain things face to face.”

 

“So what does the second message say?” Reed asks. “Is he coming?”

 

“It wasn’t from him,” Torpedo explains, voice a little shaky. “It was another British clone, from the sounds of the accent - he didn’t give a name. But he said that Eric was dead and they were sending someone to the States this week. Another clone. They didn’t say who this clone was or where they were from, but they said to meet at Grand Central Station in New York at 3 pm on Wednesday.”

 

“Grand Central Station is really fucking big,” Reed points out. “That’s not helpful.”

 

“Shouldn’t be hard to recognize someone with our face, though,” Lucas counters. “Even if it takes a while.”

 

“Grand Central Station,” Connor says dully. “Guess that means I’m up.”

 

Torpedo and Reed exchange a look. “Not necessarily.”

 

Connor kind of squints at Torpedo, then his expression grows angry. “You don’t think I can do this, can you? You think I’m just gonna fuck this whole thing up like I fuck up everything. _Fuck you_.”

 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t do it,” Torpedo shoots back heatedly. “But we need to learn from what happened to Ben, all of us.”

 

“What do you mean?” Lucas asks, crossing his arms and frowning.

 

Torpedo groans in frustration. “Come on, Lucas. You know as well as I do that Ben was the leader of this whole shitshow. He was the one pushing for answers, going out and investigating. Sure, I helped him with information and shit, but other than that I mostly didn’t ask questions. I just let him do his thing.” He’s starting to tear up, which is utter bullshit, so he swallows and hopes he can keep it together. “And he killed himself.”

 

The four of them are quiet for a long moment.

 

“You’re right,” Reed says quietly. “He threw himself into this whole clone conspiracy and… yeah, he had his own issues, and there were plenty of other things going on, but… we could have helped with the clone stuff.” They look at Torpedo, then at Connor. “Just because Connor’s being Ben at Ben’s school doesn’t mean he has to take over all the clone stuff as well. We need to be better about sharing the load between us.”

 

“Do we, though?” Lucas says suddenly. “I mean, sure, human cloning - it’s weird. But, like… why do we need to know more about it? Ben just kept pushing and pushing and trying to get to the bottom of it… is that stuff we really need to know? Can’t we just… I don’t know, go our separate ways and just… live our lives?”

 

“No one’s forcing you to be here,” Reed points out. “If you want out, then, okay.”

 

“On one hand, this is a total mindfuck,” Connor says, kind of slowly like he’s trying to figure it out. “Knowing that I’m a clone and that there are god knows how many people out there with my face. But… I was fucked up before I knew about the clones and… if I hadn’t found Ben at that park, I’d be dead. I’d really be dead.” He kind of laughs hollowly. “And you’d still have Ben to sort this shit out.”

 

Torpedo shakes his head. “Ben killing himself had nothing to do with you,” he points out. “He’d have done it anyway. Even if you hadn’t found him. Shit, if you hadn’t found him, we’d have lost you both, and…”

 

“Would that have mattered?” Connor asks bitterly. “You wouldn’t have known me. It’ll have just been another clone. I’m just another clone at the end of the day, right? Those two other clones that Ben had recordings for - Douglas and Scott? They don’t know they’re clones. Should we tell them? Are they better off not knowing? Who the fuck knows?”

 

“There’s another thing we have to consider,” Torpedo points out carefully. “And that’s the Euroclones. And the fact that they’ve told us someone’s killing off clones, and they think whoever’s killing us is coming to North America. At least we know. At least we’ve been warned, you know? The other clones Ben was recording, and all the other ones out there… they don’t know. Is it our responsibility to tell them? So they can take precautions to keep themselves safe?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Lucas replies quickly. “We can’t tell them. We don’t know how they’ll react. What are we supposed to say? You’re clones and you might get murdered, just FYI?” He shoots a quick look at Connor, then turns back to Torpedo. “I think this group already has too many unpredictable elements.”

 

Connor scowls. “Why don’t you just fuck off back to wherever you came from and play with your balls?”

 

Reed sighs. “We’re not getting anywhere.” They turn to Lucas. “Lucas, it’s up to you what you want to do, but… can you at least wait until we’ve met the European contact? We’ll let you know what we know and you can decide if you want out completely.”

 

“I didn’t say I wanted out completely,” Lucas says with a frown. “I’m just saying we shouldn’t go looking for trouble.”

 

“We’re not looking for trouble,” Torpedo says, feeling a lurch in his stomach. “Trouble’s looking for us.”

 

Lucas’s phone beeps and he looks at it, then sighs. “I have to go. I told you I could only be here for awhile. Next time, can you just Skype me in? I’ve wasted the whole day on this.”

 

Connor snorts. Torpedo resists the urge to bash their heads together.

 

“I should probably go as well,” Reed says apologetically. They walk over to Connor and envelop him in a bear hug. Torpedo sees Connor’s eyes widen in shock. It takes a few minutes, but Connor eventually gives in and hugs back.

 

Torpedo wonders when the last time Connor had a hug was.

 

“Call me if you’re ever feeling like you want to jump out a window,” Reed says to Connor, clearly going for a light tone but not quite succeeding. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the fucking night - if you need me, I will always be there. Always.”

 

“That goes for me too, you know,” Torpedo adds.

 

To his credit, Lucas doesn’t say anything snarky.

 

Reed and Lucas leave, and it’s just Connor and Torpedo again. Connor kind of looks at Torpedo, his expression hard to read. “Why the fuck do you care so much?” he says suddenly. “When you… when we talked the other night, you were… you seemed upset. At the idea that I was gonna… you know.”

 

Torpedo sighs. “Ben’s not the first person I’ve lost like that,” he confesses. “Before I got involved in this whole clone thing… I lost someone. It’s been years but… you never get over it. Losing someone like that. You just don’t.”

 

Connor’s pale, paler than Torpedo’s ever seen him. He swallows a few times, and Torpedo idly thinks that maybe he’s going to cry.

 

“My mom made chocolate chip cookies yesterday,” Torpedo says, changing the subject entirely. “I could go upstairs and get them?”

 

Connor just stares at him for a moment, then nods. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to say hi at https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/!


	16. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan, Connor, Thai food and a bookcase.

There’s a rock in Evan’s stomach when he hands the paperwork into DYAD, but he manages to muster up a smile at Dr. Dubois’ obvious happiness and firm handshake. “I foresee us doing great things together, Mr. Hansen,” he says, that ever-present not quite real smile plastered on his face. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

The next time he checks his bank account, he actually has to sit down, because holy shit. When he calls to make sure there wasn’t a mistake, they assure him that no, that’s the first month’s allowance in advance, and they’ve already made arrangements with the college to pay for tuition.

 

He pays his rent and phone bill and everything else he can think of and there’s still so much more left than what he’s used to, so he transfers about a third of it to his mom’s account, then picks up the phone to call her so she doesn’t have a heart attack.

 

Miraculously, she answers on the first ring. “Hi honey! Is everything okay?”

 

“Everything’s great, actually,” says Evan, trying to sound enthusiastic. “I, uh, have good news.”

 

He launches into the story he’s come up with to explain this sudden windfall - he’d been approached by the DYAD Institute, who’d heard he was a promising young scientist from the college and want to fund his studies. He kind of glosses over the details of the study but explains the monthly allowance and stresses that DYAD seem to think he’s going places, because he knows it’ll make his mom happy even if he’s pretty sure DYAD don’t actually have any faith in his abilities at all, he just happened to make friends with Reed.

 

Heidi is almost crying once he’s finished explaining. “I am so, so proud of you,” she says, and he can hear the excitement in her voice, and it kind of kicks him in the gut because for so many years, any excitement she’d managed to muster about him was so obviously faked to make him feel better. But this… she’s actually happy, she’s actually proud, he’s finally done something to make her proud and it’s not even real. “You’ve worked so hard, and you’ve come so far and I’m just… you deserve this, honey. You deserve every good thing in the world to happen to you.”

 

“They gave me a pretty generous monthly allowance for the study,” Evan says hesitantly. “And I’m not going to use it all, so I put some money in your account.”

 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that.”

 

“Well, I already did, so-”

 

“Don’t be silly, I’ll just transfer it right back,” she says firmly. “You’ve earned it, it’s yours.”

 

“That’s not…” Evan takes a deep breath. “Mom. You’ve been supporting me for years, working hard to pay for therapy and medication and college. Just… let me do this for you now, okay?”

 

“I’m your mother,” she counters, her voice firm. “It’s my job to support you. This is something you’ve done for you, you shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

 

“I’m not worried,” Evan lies, “I’m just… I just really want you to have it, okay? It’s not… it’s not a lot, it’s just a little bit, enough for you to do something nice for you.” He swallows. “You deserve to have something nice for you.”

 

Heidi sighs. “Tell you what,” she says finally, “I’ll transfer you back the money and you can take me out for dinner next time you’re in town.” She chuckles a little. “If your college tuition has been paid by DYAD, then I’m going to have spare money of my own to do something nice for myself. You don’t have to worry about me.”

 

Evan sighs again. “If you transfer the money back to me, I’ll just transfer it back to you,” he says firmly. “We’ll just go back and forth until the bank calls and asks what’s going on and you hate talking to the bank. I hate talking to the bank. We both hate talking to the bank, so just take the money, okay?”

 

There’s silence on the other end of the line, then Heidi kind of chuckles. “You know, I was looking at your room the other day and thinking that it could do with being repainted. I could use the money to repaint your room. Make it all nice for you when you come back for breaks. What do you say?”

 

This is probably the best compromise he’s going to get. “That sounds great, Mom.”

 

He throws on his jacket and gets on the bus to Reed’s place. May as well keep them in the loop about the whole DYAD thing. Once he’s on the bus, he wants to kick himself for not stopping to get, like, booze or food or some kind of apology for the fact that he now has all this money for literally spying on his only friend. Maybe he’ll take Reed out for a drink or something once he’s caught them up.

 

When he gets to Reed’s apartment block, he turns the corner and runs right into a tall figure. Evan apologizes profusely, then looks up and gets a little jolt in his stomach.

 

It’s Connor.

 

He just kind of stares for a moment, because he’s still not quite over the fact that Connor is actually alive and part of some massive clone conspiracy. He’s looked at plenty of pictures of Connor over the years, trying to make sense of this false connection, and the Connor in front of him is almost a completely different person.

 

Except that he’s not.

 

“You here to see Reed?” Connor says after a moment. “I just stopped by and they’re… uh… busy.”

 

“Busy like studying or busy like a booty buddy?”

 

Connor snorts. “Booty buddy? Is that what you call it.”

 

“No! No! It’s not what I call it. I call it… the normal thing.” Evan’s blushing more than he wants to be. “It’s just that Reed called one of their... uh… people a booty buddy one time, and I thought it was funny, so I teased them about it. A lot. And now it’s the first thing I think of when I think of… that, so… I guess the joke’s on me.”

 

“Congratulations,” Connor says with a smirk. “You played yourself.”

 

“Uh, yeah, I guess I did.” Evan puts his hands in his pockets. “I was just going to talk to Reed about the whole DYAD thing, but I can come back-”

 

“Do you want to get coffee?”

 

Evan blinks. “What?”

 

Connor runs his hand through his hair, a little awkwardly. “Or dinner or a beer or something,” he says, kind of mumbling. “I don’t know, I thought we could… catch up.”

 

Catch up. Right. As though they’re friends who haven’t seen each other since high school, rather than… whatever they are.

 

“We can’t exactly go anywhere local,” Evan points out. “People know Reed and you look just like him. Except for the beard. I mean, if you didn’t have the beard, I guess you could just… put on a beanie and some eyeshadow and we could just tell everyone you’re them, but… that’s weird, sorry I mentioned that, it’s super weird and I don’t know what you’d do-”

 

“It’s not that weird,” Connor interrupts with a slow smile. “You’ve caught onto one of our tricks. The cloneswap.”

 

“The what?”

 

Connor laughs. “We’re genetically identical. If we ever need to be in two places at once… well, there’s a workaround. Sometimes.”

 

Evan’s absolutely brimming with questions. “We could get takeout and go back to mine,” he blurts out. “So we can catch up and not have to worry about people seeing us.” Connor raises an eyebrow. Evan blushes even more. “I should have made that sound less like I’m propositioning you, oh my god.”

 

“It’s a good idea,” Connor says, thankfully not commenting on Evan’s last statement. “Did you drive?”

 

“I don’t have a car,” Evan admits. “I mean, I can drive but it makes me anxious, and I’m really good at taking public transport because it’s better for the environment-”

 

“I’ve got my car,” Connor interrupts, and Evan’s kind of grateful because he knows he’s rambling, rambling more than he ever did in high school, which would freak him out if it wasn’t for the fact that there was no possible way years of therapy could have prepared him for the weirdness of trying to have a normal adult catch up with his fake dead best friend from high school.

 

Evan nods, and they head back down to the street to Connor’s car in a silence that’s a little too awkward to be truly comfortable but a little too comfortable to be completely awkward. After a brief discussion in the car, they stop at a Thai place, where Evan orders what’s probably too much food, and pretty soon they’re in Evan’s tiny apartment. Evan gets out plates and cutlery and Connor kind of looks around, taking it all in.

 

“It’s nice,” Connor says absently. “You, uh, like plants?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan says, because what else is there to say to that? His apartment is literally full of plants, it’s not exactly a stretch to assume that he likes plants.

  
Then again, it’s weirdly comforting that Connor’s clearly finding this situation every bit as weird as he is.

 

He clears his throat and gestures to the food, and Connor’s eyes kind of widen a bit as he takes in just how much there is, but he dutifully piles up his plate, and Evan does the same, and they sit on the couch and Evan turns on the radio just so they’re not sitting in silence, because what if he’s a really loud eater and just didn’t know because it’s been so long since he ate with someone else in a place that’s quiet?

 

There’s something churning inside him. How is it that Connor Murphy in his apartment is sending his anxiety all the way back to high school levels?

 

“So, uh, is Reed still seeing that British guy?” Evan asks, for want of anything better to say.

 

Connor kind of frowns for a minute then cracks up laughing. “Oh my god. Evan, that was _me_.”

 

Evan’s confused. “Wait, you and Reed-”

 

“Oh my god, _no_!” Connor’s laughing even more now. “I was hiding in their room while you were there and I got bored so I faked a British accent and yelled about shagging to get you to _leave_.”

 

“Oh! Okay!” Evan lets out a nervous laugh because it is kind of funny. “I guess it would be kind of weird to… you know… with your clone.”

 

Connor looks straight at Evan with a smirk. “Dude. When I found out that there were people out there who were my genetic identicals, I was a gay teenager. I have _definitely_ fucked one of my clones.”

 

Evan thinks his brain might have short-circuited. “What?”

 

Connor starts laughing again, occasionally stopping to shovel Thai food into his mouth. Evan turns back to his meal and… tries not to think about Connor Murphy having sex. Fucking hell.

 

“Oh man, I haven’t laughed that hard in ages,” Connor says, still grinning. “I guess I’ve just gotten used to how fucking weird my life has been since…”

 

“Since you died?” Evan offers.

 

Connor’s smile fades a little. “Yeah. Since I died.”

 

When they finish eating, there’s less food leftover than Evan expected, but still enough for a couple more meals. He packs it up and puts it in the fridge, then puts the dishes in the sink. He’s just about to start the washing up when Connor speaks up.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Evan turns to see Connor standing at his bookshelf. And his stomach sinks a little. He walks over and stands next to him. Connor’s holding a copy of The Little Prince.

 

His copy.

 

“These are mine,” Connor says. Quietly. Not accusingly, exactly, but… questioningly. “You have my books.”

 

Evan nods. “Your parents gave them to me.”

 

Connor’s quiet for a while then nods. “Right. Because they thought we were friends.”

 

“They moved house the summer before Zoe went to college,” Evan explains. “When they were packing up your room, they asked me to come over and help and I… I couldn’t say no.”

 

“I knew they moved,” Connor admits. “I’ve kind of been… keeping tabs on them, kind of. I know Zoe’s in college in Vermont.” He turns to Evan, a kind of pained expression on his face. “Does she like it there? Do you know?”

 

“She does,” Evan assures him. He thinks back to Zoe’s last text. “She spends most weekends in Canada because it’s a short drive and she’s still under 21.”

 

Connor smiles. “Right. Drinking age in Canada is 18. Crafty of her.”

 

“First time she did it, she said you’d approve.”

 

Connor kind of chuckles. “Yeah.”

 

Evan thinks about that day, packing up Connor’s belongings. He’d never felt so much like an imposter, but at the same time he’d almost devoured the whole experience - listening to the Murphys tell stories about certain items, hearing tales from Connor’s childhood. Nearly 2 years after they’d lost Connor and some of the anger was starting to seep out, just a little. Leaving grief. Only grief.

 

Cynthia kept insisting he take something but Evan kept refusing. He didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t deserve to have something to remember Connor by. Not when he didn’t really know him. Then Zoe suggested that he take Connor’s books and… well…

 

The summer after senior year, Evan found an old yearbook from eighth grade. Connor had filled his page with a list of his 10 favorite books.

 

Connor liked books enough to put them in his yearbook page. 

 

So Evan took the Murphys up on their offer, packed up Connor’s book collection and went out and bought a bookcase, especially for them.

 

He even brought the bookcase and books to his college apartment.

 

“Did you read any of them?” Connor asks suddenly.

 

“I read all of them,” Evan admits. “Every single one.”

 

Connor’s expression is hard to read. “Why?”

 

Evan swallows. “I wanted to know you.”

 

“Because you told everyone that you already did?” Connor guesses.

 

“Not just that,” Evan confesses. “I just… I wanted it all to be true. So badly.” Connor’s staring at him now, eyes wide. To his horror, Evan feels tears well up in his eyes. “You can have them all back,” he says in a rush. “I can pack them up for you, I can put them in a box, you can have them all back, they’re yours, they’re not… I shouldn’t…”

 

“I’m glad you have them,” Connor tells him. His voice is a little shaky, too. “I can’t believe you read them all.”

 

Evan points to the book in Connor’s hand. “This one’s my favorite.”

 

Connor smiles. “Mine too.”

 

They’re both smiling, and it kind of feels like breathing again. Evan points to another book on the shelf. “I can’t believe you read this in the eighth grade, oh my god.”

 

“I still don’t know how I got away with it,” Connor says with a smirk.

 

And just for a moment, Evan feels like it could be alright.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come say hi at https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/!


	17. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Group chats and Grand Central Station.

Connor didn’t expect to spend Sunday eating cookies and playing Mario Kart with his clone. But then again, there have been a lot of things in his life he hasn’t expected over the last few weeks and playing Mario Kart is probably the least troubling.

 

Torpedo’s mom did make excellent cookies. Proper cookies, even - nothing vegan or gluten-free like Cynthia always insisted on.

 

For some reason, she’d been weirdly convinced that gluten was going to kill them all.

 

Hah.

 

“You’re really bad at this,” Torpedo says gleefully as he wins another game.

 

“Or you spend way too much time playing video games,” Connor points out with a roll of his eyes. “I maintain I’m average, you’re just freakishly good.”

 

“Damn right I am.”

 

They play in comfortable silence for a little longer, then Torpedo shoots Connor a look. “You should, uh, probably go home soon, yeah?”

 

“I guess.”

 

“You alright to drive?”

 

Connor shrugs. “I’m gonna have to be.”

 

Torpedo sighs. “Okay.” He kind of sits there for a moment then turns to Connor, expression very serious. “Are you going to be okay?”

 

Connor blinks. “Sure. Whatever.”

 

“No, I’m serious,” Torpedo says insistently. “I really do think you should talk to a doctor or something. I can find out who Ben’s regular GP is and sort it out for you if you want. I’ll literally book the appointment if it’s going to help.”

 

Connor’s not really sure what to say. He looks at his clone and for the first time, it hits him that out of all of them, Torpedo’s the one who looks the youngest. With his floppy hair and Pacman jumper and pimple on the corner of his nose, he just looks like… a kid. A very tired, very stressed out kid.

 

They’re all just kids.

 

Ben Childs was just a kid.

 

“I don’t know how to explain,” Connor says quietly. “But… I’m just like this. This isn’t something… this isn’t something I can just fix, you know? I can’t just… be happy, and not want to die, I just… this is who I am, I guess. I’ve always felt like this.” He kind of snorts. “I don’t even know why I’m still alive, to be honest. Maybe it’s just spite.”

 

“I can work with spite,” Torpedo replies, equally as quiet. “Stick around as a giant fuck you to the universe, okay? Just… call me if you want to do anything stupid.” Torpedo sighs. “I can’t force you to get help, even though god knows you need it, but can you at least think about it?”

 

“Okay,” Connor agrees, because that’s something he can do. He can think about it. He puts down the controller and stands up. “So Wednesday,” he says finally. “Grand Central Station, 3 pm.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be you,” Torpedo tells him firmly. “If you don’t think you can, I can do it. I’ll just cut school and head into the city, it’s not a problem.”

 

“I can do it,” Connor insists. He rubs his face. Fuck, he’s tired. “To be honest, keeping busy is probably the best thing for me right now. At least I’ll be doing something worthwhile.”

 

“Maybe that’s why Ben did so much,” Torpedo muses, almost to himself. “Just don’t overdo it.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And call me if you need me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And… I’m gonna check in. Like, every few days or so. Not to be a dick, just to… I don’t know, so you know it’s not just you. So you know that you’re not alone.”

 

Connor really doesn’t know what to say to that.

 

He’s never had that.

 

He’s never had friends who cared.

 

Or a family who understood.

 

This is completely new to him and it’s almost as overwhelming as knowing there are people out there who share his face.

 

So he just kind of shrugs, puts his hands in his pockets and heads to his car.

 

The drive back to New York is longer than he anticipated and when he gets back to Ben’s apartment, he collapses in bed and doesn’t wake up until Ben’s alarm goes off on Monday morning.

 

He lies in bed for a moment and considers just… not moving.

 

Just staying in bed forever.

 

Instead, he gets up and has a shower, and does his hair, and puts on a blazer and looks at his reflection in the mirror for longer than strictly necessary.

 

Ben Childs had bags under his eyes when he sat on a park bench and gave Connor his blazer.

 

Ben Childs is looking back at him.

 

A text from Pippa snaps him out of… whatever it was that was happening, and he goes downstairs and gets in her car and kisses her good morning and goes to school.

 

The next few days go by almost quickly, and he’s not even sure if he’s Connor anymore. He writes an essay on The Merchant of Venice for his English class. He writes an article for the school paper about upgrades to the faculty parking lot. He meets up with his lab partner for Chemistry after school and they work on a report. He does his math homework. He even goes out for a fucking _milkshake_ with Pippa on Tuesday afternoon. She insists on the cutesy thing with the straws, and Connor Murphy would burst out laughing at the sight if he were actually here.

 

Maybe that’s the only way to be Ben Childs.

 

Let Connor Murphy die properly.

 

On Wednesday morning, he wakes up to an alert on the clone phone. It’s something he hadn’t noticed before now.

 

It’s some kind of group chat.

 

Group chat: **pinkpunk** , **soccer_guy** , **reporterchilds,**   **torpeedo**

 

 **_torpeedo_ ** _has renamed_ **_reporterchilds_ ** _to_ **_emochilds_ **

 

 **torpeedo** : thought u should have a new nick

 **pinkpunk** : lol

 **soccer_guy** : very funny Marvin

 **torpeedo** : stfu

 

Connor frowns and starts typing.

 

 **emochilds** : uh, hi?

 **torpeedo** : good ur up

 **torpeedo** : so

 **torpeedo** : 3pm @ grand central, u still in?

 **emochilds** : yes

 **emochilds** : i said id go

 **emochilds** : kinda sounds like u dont trust me

 **soccer_guy** : can you blame him?

 **emochilds** : fuck u lucas

 **pinkpunk** : lucas come on

 **pinkpunk** : connors got this

 **pinkpunk** : don’t be an asshole

 **torpeedo** : keep us updated

 **torpeedo** : as soon as u find out whats going on

 **pinkpunk** : speaking of updates

 **pinkpunk** : torpedo u should probably use this chat more

 **pinkpunk** : u said it was secure

 **pinkpunk** : so keep us all posted

 **soccer_guy** : agreed

 **soccer_guy** : you said we should share things out more

 **soccer_guy** : keeping us in the loop is important

 **emochilds** : werent u just saying u wanted out of this whole thing?

 **emochilds** : on Sunday

 **emochilds** : pretty sure thats what u said

 **torpeedo** : guys

 **torpeedo** : ill get better at passing on info

 **torpeedo** : im sorry

 **torpeedo** : i just gotta get used to it

 **pinkpunk** : its ok

 **pinkpunk** : its different w/o ben, i no

 **pinkpunk** : but its not just u and its not just connor

 **pinkpunk** : we can all help

 **soccer_guy** : when we can

 

Connor snorts. God, he wants to punch Lucas in his smarmy face.

 

 **emochilds** : love the enthusiasm lucas

 **soccer_guy** : suck a dick

 **emochilds** : im a busy man

 **emochilds** : dick sucking is for weekends

 **pinkpunk** : omg

 **torpeedo** : brb

 **torpeedo** : dying

 **pinkpunk** : connor ilu

 **torpeedo** : ok so

 **torpeedo** : if u need me

 **torpeedo** : i can get on a train to ny no probs

 **emochilds** : im all good

 **emochilds** : but thx

 

Connor can’t help but notice Lucas hasn’t responded. He rolls his eyes.

 

 **emochilds** : no witty response lucas?

 **emochilds** : guess i win

 **soccer_guy** : ur such a dick

 **emochilds** : wow so ur super into dicks huh

 **emochilds** : thought i was the gay one

 **soccer_guy** : im not gay

 **soccer_guy** : fuck all of u

 **soccer_guy:** i have school

 **soccer_guy** : leaving my clonephone at home

 **emochilds** : how will we survive w/o u

 **pinkpunk** : have a good day lucas

 **soccer_guy** : fine

 

Connor chuckles.

 

 **emochilds** : gotta get ready but will let u know how meeting goes

 **torpeedo** : kk

 **pinkpunk** : stay safe

 **pinkpunk** : please?

 **torpeedo** : agreed

 **torpeedo** : and call if u need me

 **torpeedo** : im serious

 

Connor showers and gets changed, feeling weirdly lighter. Maybe there’s something to be said for this whole ‘staying in touch’ business at all.

 

Then again, maybe he’s just an asshole who really enjoys picking on Lucas. Who knows? Either way, he’s not going to argue with a good mood, and sets out for the day with the closest thing he’s ever had to a spring in his step.

 

The morning flies by, and at his lunch hour he skips out, taking the subway into the city and heading to Grand Central Station. He’s allowed plenty of time to get there so when he arrives, he’s an hour early. Not a big deal - he finds somewhere to sit, drink coffee and work on an assignment for History. Weirdly, he doesn’t actually mind doing schoolwork when he’s being Ben - when he’s being someone else, it’s much easier to dredge up some enthusiasm. Plus, there’s something about people actually believing in his ability to do things that makes him… want to live up to those beliefs.

 

If his mom knew he was doing so well in school, she’d be so happy.

 

Connor pushes that thought out of his mind.

 

Because… it’s not helpful.

 

He doesn’t need reminding that his mom thinks he’s dead.

 

Three pm rolls around and Connor’s on the lookout, standing against a wall. It’s busy, but not peak hour busy, and he’s trying not to be too obvious that he’s looking for someone with his face. All around him, people are walking and talking and moving quickly and he doesn’t necessarily love being around so many people, but he has a job to do and he’s damn well going to do it.

 

He tries to tell himself that he’s determined to succeed as a giant fuck you to Lucas who thinks he can’t, not because he doesn’t think he could bear disappointing Torpedo.

 

It’s about five past three when the hairs on the back of his head stand on edge.

 

And he’s completely convinced there’s someone watching him.

 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out. He can’t freak out, not here. Not in front of all these people. It could just be that the contact from Europe has spotted him.

 

Or it could be that whoever’s behind murdering the Europe clones has gotten to the European contact first.

 

Connor’s blood runs cold.

 

Someone bumps into him. About his height, bundled in a dirty green coat. He’s overwhelmed by the smell - it’s pungent and rotten and oddly metallic.

 

There’s no audible apology, not even a mumble, and he never catches a face, but he thinks for a moment he sees the glint of metal, the curve of a blade…

 

And then they’re gone.

 

Disappeared into the crowd.

 

He takes another deep breath and leans back against the wall and closes his eyes briefly.

 

He’s overreacting.

 

Has to be.

 

He opens his eyes and is face to face with himself.

 

Once again.

 

“You are Ben?” asks his clone in a thick French accent. Connor takes it in. This clone has a suitcase with him, he’s wearing way too much cologne and he’s got that kind of weird gravity-defying hair that kind of reminds him of Elvis.

 

“Yeah,” Connor says, his throat dry. “I’m Ben.”

 

“I go with you?” he asks. “We will talk somewhere more private, yes?”

 

Connor nods. “Yeah.” He pauses before he continues. “What’s your name?”

 

“Guillaume Bélier.”

 

Connor blinks and tries it out. “Guillaume.” He doesn’t think he’s pronouncing it right, and from the look on his clone’s face, he’s probably not.

 

“You can call me Guy,” he says, pronouncing it like ‘ghee’, looking like he really wants to roll his eyes at Connor’s American ignorance but is holding himself back.

 

“Okay, Guy,” Connor says, trying to get his head sorted. “Follow me, I’ll call us a cab.”

  


**emochilds** : ok

 **emochilds** : got the euro contact

 **emochilds** : he’s french

 **torpeedo** : tres bien

 **emochilds** : u speak french?

 **torpeedo** : lol no

 **pinkpunk** : name?

 **emochilds** : i can’t fucking spell it

 **emochilds** : but we can call him… gee?

 **soccer_guy** : probably Guy short for Guillaume

 **emochilds** : wait, U speak french?

 **soccer_guy** : not fluently

 **soccer_guy** : but I’ve taken classes since Freshman year and I always get good marks

 **torpeedo** : lol nerd

 **emochilds** : sounds right tho

 **emochilds** : Guy

 **emochilds:** taking him back to my place

 **pinkpunk** : ben’s parents still out of town?

 **emochilds:** yeah

 **emochilds:** btw

 **emochilds:** he still thinks im ben

 **emochilds:** what do i do

 **torpeedo:** find out why he’s here and what he has for us

 **torpeedo:** we can take it from there

 **soccer_guy** : if you get stuck with translation stuff you can call

 **soccer_guy** : or Skype

 **soccer_guy** : i guess

 **emochilds:** he speaks pretty good english

 **emochilds:** but thx

 **emochilds:** will b in touch

 


	18. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torpedo eats Indian takeout with his mom.

Torpedo’s in the kitchen making a cup of coffee when his mom walks in, holding her tablet and mumbling to herself. She smiles wide at the sight of him. “Hey kiddo,” she says brightly. “Glad to see you out of your cave for a change.”

 

“I’m not always in my cave,” Torpedo protests. “I went out to visit my WOW friends like a week ago. They say thanks for the cookies, by the way.”

 

She grins. “Tell them they’re very welcome.” She puts down the tablet on the bench, grabs a mug and starts making a cup of tea for herself. “How’s work going?” 

 

“Work is fine,” Torpedo assures her. And it is - he’s been doing remote software testing for the last few years, which works well for him because it’s not exactly challenging and he gets to stay at home. 

 

He reaches into the cupboard, pulls out some Advil and Tylenol, takes two of each with his coffee and puts them back. His mom frowns. “You okay sweetheart?”

 

“Headache,” he tells her, trying to keep his tone light. “Not a big deal.”

 

She frowns again. “Have you got good enough lighting in your room? That could be making things more difficult for you. I know we have our agreement that your room is your space and my office is my space, but you do spend a lot of time in there and if it’s impacting your health-”

 

“I’m keeping the curtains open when I work,” he assures her. “The lighting’s fine.” He smiles. “I’m fine, Mom. It’s just a headache.”

 

“You seem to be having a lot of them lately,” she says, expression concerned. “Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

 

Torpedo doesn’t tell her that there’s no point. 

 

He’s on the beginning of a slippery slope that his mom doesn’t need to know about. 

 

Not yet. 

 

“I think I’m alright,” he assures her, lying through his teeth. It’s funny - he never used to be a good liar, but these days it’s almost effortless. “But I’ll keep an eye on it, okay? If I think I’m getting too many, I’ll go see a doctor.”

 

“You could need new glasses?” his mom suggests. “When was the last time you had your eyes tested?”

 

“I’m not sure,” he says. “That’s a good idea, actually. I’ll book an appointment.”

 

His mom smiles. “Good.” There’s a beep from her tablet and she rolls her eyes. “Finally. I’ve been waiting to hear from this source all day.” She gets on her tippy-toes and kisses him on the forehead. “I love you. I thought I’d order Indian for dinner tonight, are you in?”

 

“As long as it’s before 9,” he says with a nod. “I’ve got a Skype meeting.”

 

She frowns. “That’s late for a meeting.”

 

“It’s with someone in the UK.”

 

“Well, pip pip.”

 

“Oh my god mom.”

 

“Cheerio!” she says with an exaggerated wink, then heads off to her office. Torpedo watches her go with a bit of a pang. 

 

He hates lying to his mom. 

 

Jenny Hetherington, as far as Torpedo is concerned, is the best mom on the planet. She’s funny and she’s kind and she’s a firm believer in privacy, which is how Torpedo’s managed to get away with keeping the fact that he’s one of god knows how many genetic identicals a secret from her for the past 4 years. His dad left when he was 10, and from then on his mom declared they were a team and would make it on their own just fine. There’s a decent amount of child support coming in from his (very wealthy) father, so they live comfortably enough, and throughout his childhood, she worked from home as a freelance writer, which meant she was always there when he needed her. 

 

He’s close to his mom, probably closer than most people are to their mothers. He doesn’t like lying to her, so he’s found ways to talk to her about things without having to keep things from her entirely. For instance, she thinks that Connor, Lucas, and Reed are friends he’s been playing World of Warcraft with since high school. The fact that he’s almost always online means that he can talk to his mom about ‘internet friends’, which does the double duty of assuring her he’s actually having some kind of human contact and feeling like he’s keeping her in the loop about his life. 

 

Jenny Hetherington doesn’t need to know that her son’s internet friends are actually his clones. 

 

Jenny Hetherington also doesn’t need to know that her son might be dying. 

 

Okay, yeah, so it’s the kind of thing a parent should know. And he’ll tell her, he will. Just… not yet. 

 

Not until he’s fixed it. 

 

There’s an intense pressure behind his eyes, and he goes downstairs to lie down for a minute. Then all of a sudden, he’s woken by a knock on the door and his mother calling out to say that the food’s here. 

 

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

 

His head is still spinning. 

 

He reaches into his bedside and cabinet, grabs the packet of fentanyl he bought illegally from somewhere shady on the internet and lets a tablet dissolve under his tongue before heading up for dinner, hoping it’ll kick in. 

 

Torpedo doesn’t like how it feels to be on something as strong as fentanyl, but he’s got to keep this hidden from his mom until he can figure something out. He tries to stick with acetaminophen and ibuprofen as much as he can, but… sometimes it’s not enough. 

 

Dinner’s good, even though he doesn’t have much of an appetite, and his mom tells him a story about how she’s looking into something involving science that he doesn’t really quite grasp, mostly because the fentanyl is kicking in and he’s finding it hard to concentrate. Every now and then, she asks him if he’s okay, and he just murmurs that he’s still got a headache, and she bites her lip in worry then hands him another piece of garlic naan. 

 

He offers to do the dishes, but she sends him back downstairs to rest before his big meeting, not before kissing him on the cheek and telling him how proud she is of him. 

 

There’s a hollow feeling in his chest. 

 

Torpedo doesn’t want to die. 

 

He doesn’t want to think about his mom all alone in this house. There’s a reason he hasn’t moved out yet - he’s not ready to leave her. 

 

He’s not ready to leave at all. 

 

9 pm rolls around and he turns on his Skype, taking a deep breath to prepare himself. Soon, he’s sitting in front of the screen, looking at two boxes, each displaying his own face. 

 

Two boxes where there used to be three. 

 

“Hey,” says Parker wearily. He’s shaved his head since the last time they talked and he looks pale and tired and frail, like his skin is made of Kleenex. Like it could tear at any minute. “How’s it all going?”

 

“I’m feeling okay,” says Tommy, his tone typically laid back. He’s got a sunburned nose - again - but at least he has some color. His long hair is in a bun and he looks tired, but still positive. 

 

Tommy’s like that. Torpedo appreciates it. 

 

“Not too bad,” Torpedo lies. “Just… headache.”

 

Both Parker and Tommy nod. “Tell me about it,” Parker says with a roll of his eyes. “Pretty sure I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have a headache.”

 

“Yeah man,” Tommy agrees. “It blows. I tried to go surfing the other day and I just fucking blacked out, dudes. One of my bros had to basically drag my unconscious ass back to shore, it was totally gnarly.” 

 

Torpedo rubs his temple. “Pretty sure we’ve had this conversation before, dude,” he says, as patiently as he can manage. “Stop fucking surfing, you’ll get yourself killed.”

 

“Live fast, die young.” There’s a moment of silence at that comment, then Tommy chuckles weakly. “Sorry, that was… sorry.”

 

They’ve been talking for about a year, ever since Torpedo started getting stuck into the research about the mysterious clone illness. He’d found them all through cross-referencing hospital visits against his list of clones - there were at least a dozen clones who hadn’t made it and the number seemed to be growing. 

 

Originally there were five of them - Torpedo from New Jersey, Parker from California, Tommy from Hawaii, Heath from Nevada and Jacob from New Mexico. Jacob passed away soon after they had their first Skype meeting, and Heath had died a month ago. 

 

Torpedo looks at Parker, his skin almost gray. 

 

He can’t help but think this could be the last time he sees him.

 

“I have news,” Parker says hesitantly. “It’s, uh, it’s something that might be useful, but… I don’t know.”

 

“Go ahead,” Torpedo says, as encouragingly as he can. 

 

“So I went out last weekend,” he says with a sigh. “Got terribly drunk and ended up in bed with this chick, which is… whatever, I’ve done that before. Next morning we both woke up and it was awkward but she made me breakfast because she thought I looked too skinny or whatever, then asked me if I had cancer which was super fucked up, and I figured ‘what the fuck’ so told her there was something wrong with my brain and the doctors couldn’t figure it out but that it was probably fatal.”

 

“Not to be a dick, but how is you getting laid useful?” Tommy asks. 

 

Parker rolls his eyes. “I’m getting there.” He sighs and rubs his head, like he’s going to run his hands through his hair but finding there’s no hair to touch. “Anyway, she seemed really interested. Apparently, she used to be a neurologist but got banned from practicing medicine because she did a shitton of drugs.”

 

“Okay,” Torpedo says carefully. “So… what, she’s got some kind of neurologist insight?”

 

“She offered to do some tests,” Parker says with a casual shrug that’s equal parts defensive and hopeful. “She’s got a friend with a medical lab with everything she’d need and she could just… you know, sneak in and do some tests. She sounded super interested. I think she likes a challenge.”

 

“Let me get this straight,” Tommy says slowly. “You fucked a disgraced neurologist with a drug problem and she’s offering to do medical tests on you? Do you not hear how weird that shit is, dude?”

 

“I’m dying. What the fuck do I have to lose?”

 

“This seems super shady. I’m just saying.”

 

“We’re part of an illegal human cloning experiment,” Torpedo says with a wry smile. “It’s already super shady.” He looks at Parker’s tired face on the screen. “What do you wanna do here?”

 

Parker shrugs. “See where it goes, I guess?”

 

Torpedo nods. “Alright. Just… be safe and keep in touch?”

 

Parker nods. “Yeah.” He rubs his face. “Guys, I’m fucking wiped, can we… is there anything else? I just wanna go to sleep.”

 

“Do you want all the medical information I’ve collected so far?” Torpedo offers. “To give to your neurologist friend. I’ve got tons, I just… it doesn’t make any sense to me.” A bubble of hope rises up in his stomach. “This could be the break we need, actually. She might be able to tell us what some of this shit I’ve found out actually means.”

 

Parker shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt.”

 

“Anyone from your group showing symptoms, Torpedo?” Tommy asks. “Lucas, Reed, Connor?”

 

Torpedo shakes his head. “No. They all seem fine. Healthy. I try not to push with the questions but… I check in.”

 

Tommy crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “These dudes are your friends, right? And if this brain shit is going to happen to all of us, then they deserve to know about this. They at least deserve to know that you’re sick.”

 

Torpedo shakes his head. “Not until we have something to fix it,” he says firmly. “Or they show symptoms. Otherwise, I’m worrying them for nothing.” He sighs. “We’ve all been through enough.”

 

Tommy’s expression softens a little. “I know you’re just trying to look out for them, dude, but… I worry about you.” 

 

“That’s nice of you, I guess, but I’m fine.”

 

“You’re dying,” Parker says flatly. “We all are.”

 

“Aren’t all humans, in a way?” Torpedo tries to joke. It falls flat. He smiles as brightly as he can. “Besides, this thing with Parker’s neurologist friend. It could be big.”

 

“It could be a joke.”

 

“Or it could give us the answers we need. To fix us. All of us.”

 

Torpedo’s determined to stay as positive as he can, because the alternative…

 

He’s afraid that if he lets himself be afraid, he’ll fall into a pit he can never climb out of. 

 

He’s afraid that if he lets himself be afraid, he’ll find himself passed out on a park bench. 

 

Just like Ben. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com !


	19. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor doesn't punch anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS GUYS GUYS. 
> 
> The AMAZING chchchchcherrybomb of 'The Desperate Type' fame wrote a oneshot in the One of a Kind universe! You'll find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14060514
> 
> It's 100% canon compliant for this fic, is Zoe-centric and is genuinely amazing and I love it so much. Please read it. Please please please.

Connor thinks he deserves a fucking medal for his patience today. 

 

He and Guy get into a cab and Guy immediately pulls out his phone and starts having a very loud, very French conversation that is absolutely grating on Connor’s nerves, which are still kind of shot from the fact that he’s convinced he saw someone with a knife at the train station. 

 

The cab driver keeps kind of looking at the two of them, as if trying to figure out if they’re twins, despite the fact that one is clearly American and one appears to be French, and Connor briefly considers telling this guy that this is a real-life Parent Trap situation or they were separated at birth or something. But Guy won’t stop fucking talking (loudly and in French) so Connor just sits in the cab and tries to murder his clone with his mind. 

 

When they get to the apartment building, Guy doesn’t even make a token effort to help pay for the cab, which Connor finds unbearably rude. He does, however, finish his phone conversation, which is a small mercy. 

 

“I am staying with you, yes?” Guy says, his tone bored as the cab drives away. 

 

Connor blinks. “What the fuck?”

 

Guy kind of rolls his eyes. “Eric told me you would let me stay. Hotels in New York is too expensive.”

 

Connor wants to argue but Guy still thinks he’s Ben, and he wouldn’t put it past Ben to have actually agreed to this shit. “Whatever,” he says, gesturing at the building. “Let’s just go inside.”

 

Before he goes any further, a thought occurs to him. 

 

“Oh shit. The doorman.”

 

Guy just looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Yes, there is a doorman.”

 

“Well, he knows me, so I can’t exactly tell him you’re my twin brother or anything,” Connor snaps. “You need a disguise or something.” 

 

Ben’s messenger bag is slimline but has a ridiculous amount of useful shit in it, Connor’s realized over the last few weeks. He pulls out a beanie and a pair of sunglasses, which he hands to Guy. Guy puts the sunglasses on but hands back the beanie. 

 

“My hair,” he says snidely, waving the beanie. “I will not wear this.”

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

 

“If I wear this, my hair will be flat, and I do not like this.”

 

Connor groans. “Oh my god.” He rubs his eyes. “Okay, new plan. I’m going to go talk to Seamus the doorman. While I’ve got him distracted, walk past and get into the elevator to the 12th floor and wait for me. I’ll meet you there.”

 

“This is stupid,” says Guy impatiently. “It is not important that we are not seen together. Cloning, it is strange, but it is not what people think. People think… relation, brother, a trick of the light. You are paranoid.”

 

“Do you think Eric was paranoid as well with his encoded data?” Connor challenges. 

 

Guy goes a little pale. “Alright,” he agrees. “I go to the 12th floor. Do not be long.”

 

Connor walks into the apartment building and strikes up a conversation with Seamus about the weather.

 

Yes, the weather. 

 

Connor can’t believe he’s having a fucking conversation about the weather with an Irish doorman in an attempt to sneak his clone into the building. 

 

Oddly enough, he gets away with it, and when he bids Seamus farewell and gets to the 12th floor, Guy is standing there leaning against the wall looking bored. “It was long,” he grumbles in that obnoxious accent. “I have been standing here too long.”

 

“Just follow me,” Connor says with a sigh and unlocks the door to his apartment. Guy looks around as they enter, clearly sizing everything up, and Connor resists the urge to punch him in his smarmy French face. He gestures to the spare room. “You can sleep in there, I guess.”

 

Guy scrunches up his nose and Connor rolls his eyes. “It will do,” says Guy finally. He puts his bag down on the bed, opens it up and starts rummaging through, pulling out a small briefcase. “This is what Eric has found,” he announces, holding it gingerly. “Inside, we have found a data drive, but it is… no good, we cannot make it function.”

 

“Okay,” Connor says as Guy hands it to him. “So you need Torpedo.”

 

Guy frowns. “Torpedo? What is Torpedo?”

 

“Torpedo is one of us,” Connor explains. “He’s a hacker.”

 

Guy frowns again. “What is hacker?”

 

Connor sighs. “Fuck, uh… he’ll be able to make the, uh, data drive function. He’s good with computers.”

 

“Oh, he is a pirate?”

 

“He’s a what?”

 

Guy looks at him like he’s a complete idiot. It’s only a matter of time until Connor punches him. “An informatic pirate.”

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Whatever. He can do it.”

 

“How do we find this pirate?” Guy asks. “He is not here now, no?”

 

“We can Skype him,” Connor suggests. “Let me set up my laptop.” He pulls his laptop out of his bag, puts it on the kitchen table and gestures for Guy to take a seat next to him as he logs into Skype and sets up a call. 

 

Torpedo answers almost immediately. “Hey dude,” he says with a grin. Then he looks at Guy. “Whoa man. That never gets old. You must be Guy, nice to meet you. I’m Torpedo.”

 

“You are the pirate.”

 

“I’m the what?”

 

“Pirate.” Guy pronounces it like ‘pee-rat’ and Connor rolls his eyes. “You find the information, yes?”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Cool.” Torpedo grins. “Guess I’m a pirate. Awesome.” He leans back in his chair. “So how are we doing this? I’m assuming if you’ve carted this halfway across the world, you’re not gonna want to, like, post it in case anything happens.”

 

“I give it to you in person,” Guy insists. “Eric is very clear on this.” He looks down. “Sorry, Eric was very clear. It is… we miss him.”

 

“So tell us about the rest of you in Europe,” Torpedo says, his eyes wide with excitement. “What have you guys been doing? How did you all find each other?”

 

“Eric is very intelligent,” Guy says with a nod. “He has found all of us, using the… computer and the face, he says. Facebook. It is… not perfect, but it is a start. At the beginning, there are many of us, and we discuss these things and try to understand where we are from. Now there are not as many. There is a killer. We are trying to understand it, but it is difficult.”

 

“Who’s left?” Connor asks. “How many of you, I mean.”

 

Guy shrugs. “I do not know much. There have been many. Eric is the one with the information, I am just… the post.” 

 

“Well that’s helpful,” Connor mutters.

 

Torpedo looks at Connor. “I’ll cut school tomorrow and come to New York to collect the drive,” he offers. “You probably shouldn’t miss any more school.”

 

“You are still attending school?” Guy asks, voice dripping with French disdain. 

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Connor grumbles. “You’ve got everything you need to decode it at your place, right Torpedo? It makes way more sense if I come to you.”

 

“This is boring,” Guy says, leaning back in his chair. “I did not think America would be so boring, merde.”

 

“Then I think you should wait until the weekend,” Torpedo says to Connor, his expression serious. “At least until Friday afternoon. My mom’s out of town for the weekend, actually - it could work really well.” Torpedo perks up. “You guys could hang out here and we could watch some movies and play some video games and I’ll get popcorn-”

 

“We are not children, mon Dieu,” Guy snaps. 

 

“That sounds great,” Connor says firmly before Torpedo’s face can fall any further, because even though it does sound a little lame, fuck this French asshole making Torpedo feel bad. “We’ll head to you on Friday after school.”

 

“Then it is settled,” says Guy, standing up. “I sleep. The flight is long. Bonne nuit.”

 

Connor watches Guy head into the guest room and rolls his eyes so hard he’s afraid they’ll come popping out of their sockets. He turns back to Torpedo, who looks sympathetic.

 

“He’s, uh, probably jetlagged,” Torpedo says hesitantly. 

 

“Pretty sure he’s just a dick,” Connor snorts. “A pompous French dick.”

 

“Please don’t punch him?” 

 

“I make no promises.”

 

Torpedo laughs a little. “You, uh, don’t have to stay for movies. I know it’s lame.” He looks a little embarrassed.

 

“Hey, no,” Connor insists. “It’s cool. You’re cool. Don’t let that asshole make you feel bad.” There’s a knock at the door. Connor groans. “Oh god, what now?”

 

“I’ll catch you later,” Torpedo says with a wave. “I’ll see you Friday?”

 

“See you Friday.”

 

Connor shuts his laptop and opens the door. Pippa’s standing there, looking impatient. “Where were you this afternoon?” she demands. “You weren’t in Calculus and I got worried.”

 

“I wasn’t feeling great,” Connor lies, “so I went home.” He coughs unconvincingly. “I’m still not feeling great, actually, so it might be best if you-”

 

“You’ve been so weird lately,” Pippa interrupts, pushing past him and heading straight into the apartment. Connor sighs and shuts the door. “What’s going on?”

 

“I told you,” Connor says evenly. “I’m not feeling great.”

 

“You just never have time for me anymore,” Pippa pouts. “And I saw you talking to Janelle in the chem lab.”

 

“Janelle’s my lab partner,” Connor replies, trying not to sound too defensive. 

 

His gay ass has no idea how to deal with calming down a jealous girlfriend. 

 

“Yeah, and she’s a total skank,” Pippa says darkly. “She’s had a crush on you for ages and she’s just trying to steal you away from me.”

 

“Steal me away?” Connor repeats, incredulous. “Pippa, I’m not a watch. People can’t be stolen, that’s ridiculous.” He sighs. “I promise that I have absolutely no interest in Janelle whatsoever, okay?”

 

Pippa pouts. Looks at him searchingly. Connor’s not sure what she’s looking for but tries to… emote positively, or something. 

 

Tries to get himself into the Ben mindset. 

 

He leans down and kisses her. 

 

It’s weird as fuck. 

 

But she seems to be at least slightly reassured. She wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him closer and everything in his brain is screaming ‘abort! abort!’ because this is just… weird. Too weird. 

 

“There’s a party on Friday night at Sam’s place,” she says conversationally. “You’re coming with, right?”

 

Connor sighs. “I have plans, sorry.”

 

Pippa glares at him. “You have to come to this, Ben.”

 

“I’m sorry, I-”

 

“No,” she says firmly. “This is non-negotiable. You missed the first party of the year and you’re not missing this one. People are wondering where you are. You’re embarrassing me by not being there.” 

 

Connor absolutely does not want to go to this party, but he doesn’t need Pippa getting suspicious and reporting that something’s weird to DYAD. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says finally. “I might be able to reschedule.”

 

Pippa nods. “Good.” Connor breaks into a fit of fake coughs and Pippa looks at him, slightly sympathetic but mostly just kind of repulsed. “God, you are sick. Okay, well, I don’t want to get whatever you’ve got, so I’m gonna go. Don’t come to school tomorrow if you’re still sick, okay?” She smirks. “Save your energy for important things. Like Sam’s party.”

 

Pippa lets herself out and Connor sits on the couch. 

 

“She is very pretty, yes?”

 

Guy’s standing in the doorway of the spare room, looking at Connor with interest. 

 

“Yeah,” Connor says, agreeing because he guesses she is. 

 

“But you do not love her.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Guy chuckles. “You do not love her, you do not desire her. I think she does not know, but I must ask… what is it you do not like? She is very beautiful. Unless, it is not the women that you like?”

 

Connor groans. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

 

Guy laughs. “I do not judge. The men, the women, the others - all are beautiful to me.” He smirks. “If you do not want her as your lover, I will have her.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Guy.”

 

Guy comes into the living room proper and sits on the couch, folding his long legs like a pretzel. He’s wearing silk pajamas. Connor thinks they’re ridiculous. “You will go to this party on Friday night, yes?”

 

“No. We’re going to take the data drive to Torpedo. We already discussed this.”

 

Guy raises his eyebrows. “Your Pippa, she will not be happy if you do not go. It is important to keep your woman happy.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“I can go to the party for you,” Guy offers. “I will say little. Stand and be the… what do they call it, the arm candy? I think this is what she wants.”

 

“Fuck off,” Connor snaps. “She’ll notice it’s not me in a second with that accent.”

 

“I can sound American if I want,” Guy says with a pout. “Hamburger. Football. Oreos.”

 

“That’s not even a little bit convincing,” Connor replies. 

 

But…

 

Well…

 

He’s tempted. He really does need to make more of an effort with Pippa and if she gets drunk enough at the party, which from all accounts she’s prone to doing, she might need even notice her boyfriend has a French accent. 

 

She’s been pretty fucking unobservant so far. 

 

“I’ll think about it,” Connor says. 

 

It’s probably a terrible idea, but…

 

Well…

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/


	20. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes to an art gallery.

It’s been awhile since Connor spent a full weekend in New York. He’s gotten into the habit of getting in his car on Saturday morning and heading to Reed’s place to hang out, get weed and, nine times out of ten, hang out with them and Evan.

 

Reed has their own little hydroponic setup in their apartment and has been experimenting with growing weed since they moved in. It’s actually pretty good. Connor likes to tell himself that he’s only making the drive for decent quality weed that’s organic or some shit (like the fucking hipster he thinks he’s become) but the truth is, he’s only been making this trip since Evan Hansen burst back into his clone’s life, and then his.

 

Reed’s been giving him shit ever since he started showing up, but Connor suspects they secretly like it. There have been plenty of nights hanging out with Evan and Reed, camped out in Reed’s apartment, talking and listening to music, and it’s nice. Relaxing. Comforting.

 

Connor likes hanging with Reed. Evan being there most of the time is just a bonus.

 

 _Keep telling yourself that_ , says a tiny voice in his head.

 

If he’s being brutally honest with himself, he might have a small crush on Evan.

 

Which is very stupid, because Evan is a connection to a past he can never get back. Evan’s still friends with Connor’s family, especially Zoe. Apparently, they’d become quite good friends, Evan had explained. (He’d also assured Connor that there had never been anything romantic between them and his crush on her was completely gone, which… made him feel more relieved than he cares to admit.)

 

Hell, just last week Zoe called Evan late on a Thursday night while they were hanging out with Reed. Connor had seen Zoe’s name flash up on Evan’s phone and for the briefest of moments, wanted to pick it up and answer it. Wanted to hear his sister’s voice.

 

Evan had caught his eye, frowned deeply and answered the phone, making it very clear it was Zoe on the other end of the line and heading into Reed’s room. Connor managed to have some self-control for about five minutes but eventually caved and followed Evan into the room. Evan wrapped up the call quietly, Connor only really catching the tail end of the conversation, then refused to tell Connor what Zoe had called about, no matter how much Connor pried.

 

He knows he shouldn’t.

 

Being around Evan when he knows that Evan’s still connected to everything Connor’s left behind feels selfish and voyeuristic but he can’t quite let it go.

 

His feelings about Evan have always been complicated.

 

Part of him thinks he’s infatuated with the _idea_ of Evan Hansen. He kept an eye on Evan all through high school, through social media and that stupid visit home near the beginning of his time as Ben. The letter, the miscommunication, the fact that Evan went along with all of it - it was a mess and it hurt but it’s always been something Connor’s circled back to in his mind.

 

If it had been anyone else, Connor doesn’t think he’d be quite as forgiving. But there was always that niggling ‘what if’ when it came to Evan. That question of what could have been.

 

He’d often thought that if the circumstances had been different, Connor Murphy and Evan Hansen could have been friends.

 

Having him back in his life feels like a second chance.

 

He worries his feelings for Evan are tied up in nostalgia. Tied up in this fake friendship, in lies, in deception, in this idea of Evan he’s built up in his head over the past three years and the knowledge that Evan’s created his own idea of Connor, too. They don’t really know each other. Not really.

 

He thinks about Evan’s bookshelf, full of Connor’s books, and Evan’s quiet admission that he’d read every single one. Because he wanted to know Connor.

 

_“I wanted it all to be true. So badly.”_

 

Connor’s starting to collect information about Evan, keeping it in a file in his head. Evan likes spring rolls and cold beer and Thai food. He likes plants - he and Reed discuss growing techniques for Reed’s marijuana plants even though Evan isn’t by any stretch a regular user, he just really likes plants.

 

Evan likes watching nature documentaries and comedies that don’t have laugh tracks. His nose kind of crinkles when he smiles. He bites his fingernails and still absently twists the edges of his shirt, but he doesn’t spend as much time looking down as he seemed to in high school.

 

Evan has really fucking nice handwriting and a steady, patient way of explaining concepts to Reed when they’re busy doing assignments and Connor’s just in the corner, half-listening to music and getting slightly buzzed from Reed’s tea. His voice is calming and even though Connor could give a flying fuck about plant biology, it’s nice listening to Evan talk about something he clearly cares about.

 

Connor doesn’t really know Evan, but he’s starting to.

 

As much as he wants to go to Reed’s apartment and hang out with Reed and Evan and eat fried vegan food and drink cannabis tea, he’s actually staying in the city this weekend. He’s agreed to go to an art gallery opening with a friend from class, a friend he kept blowing off.

 

Connor’s been blowing off Amanda because he’s like, 80% sure that she’s supposed to be his new monitor. He doesn’t really have friends at NYU, although he’s got tons of people he’s friendly with (which is a step up from high school, let’s be realistic), simply for that reason. But Amanda’s been pretty insistent, which makes him think that he’d better throw her a bone just to keep DYAD off his back.

 

He doesn’t dislike Amanda, he muses to himself as he ties up his hair and shrugs on the green velvet blazer he stole from Reed’s apartment. She’s an artist and she’s got something in the gallery that’s opening, so he may as well be a good friend and show up. She’s assured him there’s free booze, which is always a plus, and there are some other people he knows coming along.

 

His phone beeps.

 

 _Group chat_ : **pinkpunk** , **treeeees** , **emochilds**

 

 **treeeees** : not in town this weekend Connor? 

**pinkpunk** : lol he finally got a life lol

 **treeeees** : Reed come on

 **treeeees** : be nice

 

Connor chuckles. Torpedo had sent Reed a clone phone for Evan and added him to their secure messaging service. Torpedo had also picked the username.

 

Reed, Evan and Connor had laughed for a good ten minutes when they saw it. (It probably wasn’t that funny, but it had been one of the rare occasions Evan decided to smoke with them, and they were all a bit baked.)

 

Getting a message from **treeeees** still makes him laugh because he can picture Evan on the floor of Reed’s apartment, delightfully stoned, hugging a pillow and repeating the word ‘treeeees’ to himself over and over again.

 

 **emochilds** : i do so have a life

 **emochilds** : going to an art gallery opening

 **emochilds** : friend of mine invited me

 **pinkpunk** : u have friends who arent ur clones

 **pinkpunk** : or evan

 **pinkpunk** : ?

 **emochilds** : fuck off

 **emochilds** : i have people i am friendly with

 **emochilds** : friend is a strong word

 **treeeees** : is this the one you thought might be your monitor?

 

Connor sighs. Evan’s too observant for his own good sometimes.

 

 **emochilds** : yeah

 **emochilds** : figured i should throw her a bone

 **treeeees** : is she still trying to hit on you?

 **pinkpunk** : good luck 2her

 **pinkpunk** : ur so gay

 **emochilds** : correction

 **emochilds** : connor is gay

 **emochilds** : ben is… bi, i guess?

 **emochilds** : so

 **emochilds** : i dunno

 **emochilds** : i feel like ishould at least be nice

 **treeeees** : well good luck?

 **treeeees** : as a fellow bi, I salute you

 **emochilds** : yeah but

 **emochilds** : im not a real bi

 **emochilds** : im a fake bi

 **treeeees** : on one hand i want to be pissed off

 **treeeees** : that you’re perpetuating bisexual erasure

 **treeeees** : on the other hand

 **treeeees** : you are literally impersonating one of your genetic identicals

 **treeeees** : i have no frame of reference here

 **pinkpunk** : hope u do better with amanda than u did with pippa

 **treeeees** : who’s pippa?

 **pinkpunk** : ben’s ex from hs

 **treeeees** : i thought jerome was your ex from hs?

 **pinkpunk** : yup him too

 **treeeees** : wait what?

 **pinkpunk** : at the same time even

 **treeeees** : CONNOR

 **treeeees** : BISEXUAL DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE ONE OF EACH

 **emochilds** : that was ben

 **emochilds** : ben had them both when I got there

 **emochilds** : i just rolled with it

 

He checks his watch (Ben Childs wears a watch and he’s kind of gotten used to it), shoots a quick message to the chat to explain he’s off and heads out into the city. His apartment isn’t far from the gallery. His apartment isn’t really far from anything, honestly. He’s still got his car but during the week it’s just parked in the parking building and he only ever uses it for Clone Club business.

 

He’s been in this apartment for two years and it’s starting to actually feel like home. It’s got a bedroom, an office and an open plan living and kitchen, and it’s small but it’s nice. Ben’s parents’ still pay the rent, which is nice, but they don’t visit much. They sold the apartment Connor lived in that last year of senior year once Ben went to uni, deciding that it was better to downsize, considering they were literally never there.

 

Connor has seen Ben’s parents exactly eight times. (It would have been nine, but there’d been extenuating circumstances and Lucas had had to attend a family dinner in his place.) Connor kind of thinks that’s ridiculous, to be completely honest. There’s something inside him that kind of churns when he thinks about it. On the rare occasions he sees Ben’s parents, his emotions cycle between furious that they left this mentally unstable kid to his own devices for so long, and guilt that he’s literally impersonating their dead son and they have no idea.

 

Then again, it’s made the clone stuff easier.

 

Still, he muses, compared to Anthony and Janine Childs, Larry and Cynthia Murphy could be contenders for parents of the year. And they’d been…

 

Well…

 

Connor doesn’t like to think about it.

 

When he gets to the gallery, there’s not a large crowd but it’s a respectable showing. He spots Amanda in the corner, talking animatedly to someone about… whatever it is she’s got behind her. Connor really doesn’t get art. Her eyes light up when she sees him and she waves him over. The person next to her smiles and leaves and Amanda wraps him up in a hug.

 

She smells pretty good. Kind of like fruit. It’s much nicer than that overpowering flowery stuff Pippa used to be obsessed with. Amanda’s got straight black hair, sharp features, and tanned skin. He thinks she’s part Filipino. She bears more than a passing resemblance to Pippa, which Connor imagines is why DYAD picked her to spy on him.

 

Not that he has any proof she’s spying on him, but… well… it would make sense.

 

“Ben, you made it!” Amanda says, eyes sparkling with happiness. “I’m so glad you came. Did you want to maybe get coffee afterward?”

 

“It’s been a long week,” Connor says apologetically, “but I’ll see how I go?”

 

Amanda nods. “Cool cool. Here, let me get you a drink.”

 

She comes back a minute later with a glass of wine for each of them and shows him around the gallery, pointing out her own piece. Connor doesn’t understand it but makes appreciative noises and generally bullshits his way through a conversation about symbolism, much to Amanda’s pleasure. Then someone pulls her away, so he takes the opportunity to look at other stuff in the gallery.

 

He’s staring at a particularly weird sculpture of what he thinks might be Jesus made of condoms when he hears someone talking to him. He doesn’t bother looking at them.

 

“Do you like it? Obviously, it’s symbolic of the fact that religion is fucking society over.”

 

“Sure,” says Connor, not really wanting to engage.

 

“I think it’s a little too obvious, but not everyone can make a nuanced statement with their art,” the guy says conversationally. “Personally, I think that visual art is all well and good but nothing compares to what you can capture on film. Film is where the true visionaries get to spread their creative wings.”

 

“Right,” says Connor, not really knowing what to say and hoping that his general frostiness will deter this guy from continuing to talk.

 

“Did you want another drink? I can get you one,” says the guy, his tone flirtatious.

 

And Connor’s done. “Sorry dude,” he says, turning toward him, “I’m not..”

 

Oh shit.

 

 _Just one weekend_ , he thinks to himself bitterly. _I just wanted_ one _weekend away from clone shenanigans._

 

This clone is dressed entirely in black, wearing a ridiculous wide-brimmed hat that’s probably supposed to be making some kind of statement. His hair is clipped short and he doesn’t have a beard, but there’s no mistaking the face.

 

He’s pretty familiar with this stupid face by now.

 

“This is some kind of art piece, right?” the guy says hesitantly. “Like, prosthetics and shit, designed to fuck with people. It’s good. You nearly had me there.”

 

Connor sighs. “Sure man. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

The guy is standing there staring, his face completely drained of color, and it’s been awhile since Connor’s actually met one of them who’s completely thrown off by this whole thing. He sighs and rubs his eyes. He’s going to have to take care of this, isn’t he.

 

“What’s your name?” Connor asks.

 

“Chad,” he replies. “Chad Milton-Meyer.”

 

“Ben Childs,” he offers in response, extending his hand to shake it. Chad doesn’t take it.

 

“I’m tripping,” Chad says weakly. “Gotta be.”

 

Connor sighs, then starts going through his bag for the ‘In Case of Clone Emergency’ kit Torpedo had insisted they all carry around with them. “Okay,” he says, trying not to roll his eyes too hard. “I know this is weird, and you’re completely justified in just freaking out and running off, but if you want to know why we look alike, take this.” He hands over the ziplock bag that contains a burner phone, a pair of sunglasses, a beanie and a bar of chocolate.

 

“What the fuck,” Chad says, taking the bag and looking at it with interest.

 

“The phone has contacts in it,” Connor explains. “Torpedo is the best person to talk to, he’ll explain the whole thing. The sunglasses and the hat are for an emergency disguise, and the chocolate is for… well, it’s chocolate, what more am I supposed to say about it.” He sighs. “Look, I know this is weird, but… it’s important you don’t talk to anyone about this, okay? Now that I’ve seen you, I should… look, do me a favor and don’t talk to that girl over there, okay? The one in the green dress?” He gestures as subtly as he can and Chad stares at her for longer than Connor thinks is entirely necessary. “She’s a friend of mine and I don’t want you freaking her out.”

 

“Nice of you,” Chad says snarkily. “Fuck this.” He puts the ziplock bag in his own bag, then stalks off.

 

Connor sighs and heads home.

 

Group chat: **pinkpunk** , **soccer_guy** , **emochilds** , **torpeedo**

 

 **emochilds** : new clone incoming

 **emochilds** : just fyi

 **pinkpunk** : are u fucking kidding me

 **soccer_guy** : great

 **soccer_guy** : just what we need

 **torpeedo** : did u use the kit?

 **emochilds** : yes

 **emochilds** : felt like an idiot doing it

 **emochilds** : but yes

 **torpeedo** : name?

 **emochilds** : Chad Milton-Meyer

 **pinkpunk** : very fancy

 **emochilds** : yeah he’s like

 **emochilds** : artsy film snob

 **emochilds** : or something

 **emochilds** : tried to explain art to me

 **pinkpunk** : ahahaha

 **pinkpunk** : was the art good?

 **emochilds** : sculpture of jesus made with condoms

 **pinkpunk** : ic

 **pinkpunk** : symbol that religion is fucking society?

 **emochilds** : that’s what chad said

 **emochilds** : i dont fucking know

 **torpeedo** : we’ll see if he gets in touch

 **torpeedo** : good on u 4 using th kit

 **soccer_guy** : this guy sounds like a douche

 **emochilds** : lucas

 **emochilds** : stop agreeing with me on shit

 **emochilds** : it fucks with my head

 **emochilds** : it tears apart the very fabric of time and space

 **soccer_guy** : ur a dick

 **torpeedo** : *loud dramatic sigh*

 **pinkpunk** : LOL

 

Private message to **treeeees**

 

 **emochilds:** new clone

 **emochilds** : fml

 **emochilds** : just wanted to chill and not think about it 4 awhile

 **treeeees** : reed was just telling me

 **treeeees** : holy shit

 **treeeees** : it must be super weird

 **emochilds** : u have no idea

 **treeeees** : im sorry?

 **emochilds** : not ur fault

 **emochilds** : just

 **emochilds** : can I come hang tomorrow?

 **treeeees** : of course

 **emochilds** : thanks

 **treeeees** : any time, Connor

 **treeeees** : seriously

 **treeeees** : i know it’s weird, but

 **treeeees** : I’m here for you if you need me

 **emochilds** : thank you

 **emochilds** : i’ll see you tomorrow

 **treeeees** : bring donuts

 **emochilds** : demanding much?

 **treeeees** : please bring donuts?

 **emochilds** : only cos u asked nicely

 **treeeees** : :)

 **treeeees** : looking forward to seeing you

 **treeeees** : mostly for the donuts

 **treeeees** : but also

 **treeeees** : you know

 **treeeees** : weird not seeing you today

 **emochilds** : weird not seeing u2

 **treeeees** : see you tomorrow!

 

Connor smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/!


	21. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guillaume Bélier takes on New York.

America is boring and not at all what Guy expected.

 

Obviously, he knew that Americans were uncultured and ridiculous and had somehow elected something hideous and orange as their president, that wasn’t news. But he’d seen plenty of movies. American teenagers were supposed to have wild parties and be constantly out doing exciting things with their friends and having adventures.

 

Ben Childs, however, does not appear to be doing any of these things. On Thursday, he goes to school, leaving Guy alone in his apartment, which is boring and small and badly decorated. Guy has been told very sternly by Ben not to leave the apartment, and he resents this intensely. Ben’s argument was that he should take it easy, having just flown in from France, but Guy is used to traveling, and had slept on the plane, and really wanted to explore New York City.

 

He should never have agreed to this job. It is the worst.

 

Guy curls up on the couch (which is, admittedly, quite nice) in his pajamas and turns on the television. There’s Netflix, which he appreciates, and there is a wider selection than in France, which he also appreciates, so things aren’t that bad but he’s still itching to go out and do something.

 

Sometime in the early afternoon, he orders pizza, which takes longer than it should due to the language barrier and trying to find someone who will deliver, but soon he is eating a typical greasy American dish that, like most American foods, straddles the line between disgusting and delicious.

 

No double he will regret it soon, all the grease and fat, but for now, he is determined to at least have this American experience. There is soda in the fridge, so he helps himself. It is flat. He pours it down the sink.

 

America is terrible.

 

When Ben returns, he looks annoyed. Guy does not care for it. Ben sighs loudly. “Well, at least you didn’t go anywhere.”

 

“I would offer you some pizza,” Guy says conversationally, “but I do not want to.” He eats the last piece of cold pizza and looks at Ben straight in the eye. Ben sighs again.

 

“Okay,” he says, taking off his blazer and throwing it over the side of a chair, then putting his bag on the kitchen table. “Whatever, I’ll order Chinese.”

 

Guy perks up. “I would like to eat some Chinese food.”

 

“Then pay for it yourself, dickhead.”

 

Guy rolls his eyes. “You Americans are so vulgar.”

 

Ben does eventually order Chinese food, and kind of glares at Guy as he helps himself to wontons, but doesn’t say anything. He sits at the kitchen table, doing homework and occasionally answering messages on his phone. Guy continues to half-watch an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, lamenting the lack of subtitles because he’s only catching about 75% of what is being said, until he’s finally reached the limit of what his boredom can take.

 

“Okay, you are very boring,” Guy announces, turning off the television. “We will go out.”

 

Ben just looks at him and shakes his head. “No, Guy.”

 

“It is a Thursday night, we should be drinking and meeting beautiful women,” Guy says firmly. “Or beautiful men. I do not mind, as long as they are beautiful and nearby.” He stands up, brushes the pizza crumbs off his pajamas and looks at Ben challengingly. “I will take the shower, then change, then we will go out.”

 

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

 

Guy folds his arms. “Okay, so I will go out.”

 

Ben groans in frustration. “You’re not fucking going out, Guy. I’m not letting you loose on the city, who the fuck knows what trouble you’ll end up in.”

 

“I will go out, with or without you,” Guy announces, heading to his room to gather his things for a shower. “It is your decision.”

 

“Jesus fuck,” he hears Ben mutter as he makes his way to the bathroom.

 

After a hot shower and half an hour of primping, Guy is ready to depart. Ben’s still sitting at the kitchen table, doing his homework. He just stares at Guy for a moment, then stands up and puts his blazer on. Guy frowns.

 

“Are you not going to prepare yourself?”

 

“For what?”

 

“For going out. You cannot wear the same thing you wear all day.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Once again, Guy is forced to sneak past the doorman while Ben makes conversation, which he still thinks is ridiculous. Then they are on the streets of New York City, and Guy finally feels like his trip has been worth it. It is a vibrant place - the Americans say it is the city that never sleeps - and Guy has always known where to find places to go, despite being underage. He looks at Ben, who’s walking a small distance behind him, hands in his pockets and looking deeply unhappy.

 

“Do you have an ID?” Guy asks.

 

Ben frowns. “What?”

 

Guy sighs impatiently. “A fake ID. Here in America, it is twenty-one for bars, yes?”

 

Ben pulls out his wallet and flicks through it, kind of frowning to himself, then stops frowning when he finds it. Guy has no idea why he would be so surprised to find his own fake ID. “Yes,” he says, tone flat. “We’re not staying out long, alright? Just a couple of drinks. I have school tomorrow.”

 

Guy snorts. “As you Americans like to say, fuck that.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

They find a nightclub relatively quickly, and Guy takes the lead, flirting with the bouncer shamelessly so they don’t pay too much attention to fake IDs. He makes a big show about how it is his first time in America and he is here to see his cousin. Ben is scowling the whole time, which makes their resemblance a little less pronounced, and they’re allowed in without too much difficulty.

 

Guy goes to the bar and orders a row of shots, then gestures for Ben to join them.

 

“I am sure I can drink more than you,” says Guy confidently.

 

Ben just raises his eyebrows. “Whatever.”

 

“I am serious,” says Guy. “I will drink more of these shots than you, and when I do, you will buy the next round.”

 

“Fuck off,” Ben groans, but when Guy goes to take the first shot, Ben takes one and then downs five of the eight in quick succession.

 

Guy grins. “Alright, we begin.” He signals for another round, and Ben glares at him a little, then kind of awkwardly smiles.

 

Perhaps this clone isn’t quite that bad.

 

Guy has always had an interesting relationship with his clones. His first encounter with a clone was Eric, who was always so serious about everything. He was posh and British and walked around like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but was a genuinely good person, albeit somewhat, as the English would say, fuddy-duddy. After meeting Eric, the next one was Hans, who was German and came from a family of farmers, and was the closest thing anyone with their genetics could be to ‘rugged’. They’d good-naturedly ribbed each other about the differences between their two cultures, drank a lot of beer and had sex on a boat.

 

Hans was one of the first of the European clones he knew to be murdered. Before Hans, it was Novak from Hungary, then another one from Poland, then one in Ukraine that Guy never met. Eric had worked a lot with Beanpole, another British clone, who was the one who contacted Guy about taking the data drive to America.

 

Guy does not think that Beanpole is his real name.

 

Eric had been their main source for getting information from computers. He’d been shot after breaking into DYAD to steal encrypted data, and then died just after passing the data on to Beanpole. Beanpole had been… upset.

 

Very upset.

 

Guy had been, too. He’d liked Eric.

 

Both DYAD and this murderer after them pose a very real threat, and as much as Guy does not like to think about, he’s aware that his life as a clone is dangerous.

 

Which is why he intends to enjoy his life as much as he can, for he knows it may be short.

 

He’s not sure how many shots they’ve had, but it’s enough that Ben’s actually laughing at something Guy said, and Guy’s almost enjoying this clone's company. There’s something _off_ about Ben Childs, almost like he isn't entirely comfortable in his own skin. But he’s a lot more fun drunk.

 

“Okay okay okay,” Ben slurs. “I’ll get the next round, but you get the round after that, and then you have to go dance so I can laugh at your lame as fuck French dance moves.”

 

“I have a compromise,” Guy counters. “I will get the next two rounds, and you will dance with me so I can laugh at your stupid American gracelessness.”

 

“Or,” Ben continues, “I’ll get the next three rounds, and you go find someone else to dance with. I don’t dance.”

 

Guy laughs, blows a kiss and heads onto the dance floor. There’s a cute redhead in the corner and he makes his way toward her, beckoning for her to join him. She kind of giggles and does. _American girls_ , he thinks fondly, _they do not require much effort._

 

The night goes by in a blur of tequila and Guy loses track of Ben, only to find him in another corner making out with an admittedly attractive guy with striking features and dark skin. He chuckles to himself and heads to the bathroom, where he stumbles across two guys and a girl snorting lines of cocaine off the counter of the sink.

 

“How much?” he finds himself asking, and soon he’s being sold a small quantity of cocaine at a frankly outrageous price. But he pays it. Because he’ll only live once. He looks at the bathroom counter and frowns. It doesn’t look clean. He has more self-respect than this. It might be time to move the party back to Ben’s apartment.

 

He pockets his purchase and heads back into the bar, where he finds Ben at the bar once again, starting on another row of shots. Guy happily joins in, then tips the bartender, then leads a well and truly drunk Ben out of the bar.

 

“That was fun,” Ben says, drunk and almost giddy. “But you’re right, we should… I have…” He trails off and erupts into giggles.

 

“I have party favors,” says Guy, producing the baggie of cocaine. Ben kind of stares at him for a moment and laughs. “But I will not do cocaine in the bar. We will do the cocaine at your apartment.”

 

Guy does have some self-preservation, after all.

 

Ben drunkenly slings an arm around his shoulder and they head back to Ben’s apartment, not even bothering to try to fool the doorman this time. It’s a different guy and he doesn’t seem to be paying the slightest bit of attention. When they’re in the elevator, Ben leans against the wall and just kind of keeps laughing to himself. “This is so fucked up,” he says, looking at the ceiling. “You’re me and I’m me but I’m Ben and you’re Guy and Connor Murphy is dead.”

 

Guy frowns. “Who is Connor Murphy?”

 

Ben snorts. “A ghost, dude. Just a ghost.”

 

It takes a few tries for Ben to unlock the door, but eventually, they get back to the apartment and Guy starts arranging lines of cocaine on the kitchen counter. Ben looks at the counter for a moment, then bends down and snorts a line. Guy follows, and soon they’re both wonderfully, blissfully high.

 

“Being dead is weird,” says Ben conversationally. The room is kind of spinning.

 

“You’re not dead,” Guy replies. “At least, I do not think you are. Et même si tu es mort, tu es très beau pour un homme mort.”

 

Ben cracks up laughing. “I have no fucking clue what you just said.” He kind of hiccups. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

 

“That is hurtful,” Guy says, putting his hand on his chest. “I am very hurt.”

 

They’re on the couch and Ben is weirdly close to him.

 

And…

 

Well…

 

Guy’s never been one to let an opportunity go by.

 

He leans in and kisses his clone.

 

Ben kind of jolts, but kisses him back. He breaks off and laughs. “This is so fucked up.”

 

Guy shrugs. “It is perfectly natural to experiment. We are genetically the same, it is not like we are truly family.” He smirks. “Besides, are you not curious?”

 

“This is a terrible idea,” Ben murmurs, then leans in to kiss him again. “I fucking hate you.”

 

“I think I hate you, too.”

 

The next morning, Guy wakes up to the screeching of an alarm. He groans and swears loudly in French and feels a body next to him moving and swearing in English and…

 

Oh.

 

Okay.

 

Guy has vague impressions of last night - clothes being removed, moving into the bedroom, a condom being opened, much more swearing than he thinks is entirely necessary. He’s pretty sure he was high out of his mind, but he also thinks he kind of enjoyed himself.

 

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” says Ben, his voice scratchy and thick with sleep. “Jesus _fucking fuck._ ”

 

“Will you turn off that _maudite_ alarm, please?” Guy retorts, burying his head in the pillow. “I would like to sleep more.”

 

Ben sits bolt upright, turns off his phone alarm and then literally pushes Guy out of bed.

 

“Putain de merde,” he groans as he hits the ground. “Why would you do that?”

 

“If you’re going back to sleep, you’re going back to the guest room,” Ben says firmly. His hair is sticking up in all directions. “ _Jesus fucking fucking fuck_.”

 

Guy stands up, then takes one of the sheets off Ben’s bed in retaliation and wraps it around his waist. He has no idea where his clothes are. “You are by far the most unpleasant person I have ever woken up with,” he grumbles.

 

“We are never speaking of this ever again,” Ben says firmly. He takes the duvet and pulls it right over his head. “Get out of my room,” comes his muffled voice.

 

Guy rolls his eyes and heads back to the guest room.

 

Americans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :) or come yell at me, whatever you want.


	22. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Connor's Excellent NYC Adventure is a bust.

Thanksgiving is approaching, and Evan’s still trying to figure out if he’s going home for break. He knows his mom would be pleased to see him, but he doesn’t feel like he can quite leave. Not when Connor’s going to be all by himself, because Ben Childs’ parents are, from all accounts, the actual worst.

 

“Dude, you don’t have to worry about me,” Connor says for the millionth time. “I’ve spent so many holidays by myself, it’s not a big deal.”

 

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Evan points out. They’re eating donuts Connor brought from the city on Evan’s sofa, Reed having begged off hanging out that weekend because they’ve got a crazy genetics assignment due that Evan knows absolutely nothing about. Reed’s scientific interests tend to lie in humans rather than plants, so while some of their studies align, there are plenty of times where neither of them has any idea what the other is talking about.

 

Connor shrugs and takes a bite of a donut. “Doshuwaahcomnuuuyok?”

 

“What?”

 

Connor swallows. “Do you want to come to New York?”

 

Evan blinks. Connor’s got powdered sugar on his nose and his face is young and open and hopeful and it makes Evan’s heart race a little more than he thinks it should. “Okay,” he says.

 

Connor breaks into a smile. “Awesome. I’ll show you the city. We’ll do, like, cheesy touristy shit. I’ll take you to my favorite coffee place, it’s awesome. And maybe my friend Amanda’s art gallery-”

 

“If she’s the one you think is a DYAD plant,” Evan interrupts hesitantly, “then maybe I shouldn’t meet her.” He gulps. “You know, in case she talks about me to DYAD and they figure out I know you.”

 

Connor’s face falls. “Oh. Right. Yeah.” He shakes his head. “No, sorry, I should have thought about that-”

 

“Everything else sounds great,” Evan assures him. “Let me just call my mom and tell her.”

 

By some miracle, Heidi’s actually home, and she sounds rested and happy to hear from him. “Hey sweetie,” she says as the call connects. “I was just about to call you!”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I’m so sorry baby, I have to work over Thanksgiving, so I just wanted to warn you… but I might be able to get one of the days off? I’ll try my best.”

 

“No no, that’s fine,” Evan tells her. “I’m actually going to New York for Thanksgiving break. I’m going to stay with my friend… Ben.”

 

“Ben?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan says, hoping he hasn’t screwed up with the pause. “So my friend Reed, they have this friend Ben who lives in New York, and Ben’s been visiting a lot in weekends because it’s not too far from here, and his folks are out of town for Thanksgiving so he doesn’t have plans and I thought I’d keep him company. Plus, it gives me a chance to see the city, so…”

 

“That’s great,” Heidi says, her voice warm. “I’m so glad you’re making such good friends, honey. I’m actually just about to head to work, but we’ll catch up properly soon, yeah?”

 

“That sounds great, Mom.”

 

“Okay. Love you!”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

Connor wipes his nose absently as Evan ends the call. “It’s weird hearing you call me Ben,” he admits.

 

“Sorry,” Evan says apologetically. “I kind of… have to, I guess.”

 

Not for the first time, Evan wishes that this were a normal relationship. That he could meet Connor’s friends without worrying about being exposed by DYAD. That he could bring Connor home to meet his mom without fear of freaking her out because she still thinks Connor Murphy is dead.

 

By relationship, he means friendship, obviously, because…

 

Well…

 

Connor smiles softly and Evan loses his train of thought. “So Thanksgiving is a go, then.”

 

Evan nods. “Thanksgiving is a go.”

 

Seeing as Evan doesn’t drive, Connor’s offered to drive him to and from the city, and they spend the night before Thanksgiving break begins hanging out with Reed, who’s heading home the next day. Reed pops out to get some food, leaving Connor and Evan on the couch. Connor is brimming with energy, smiling brighter than Evan’s ever seen.

 

“So I’ve got a whole bunch of ideas of things we can do while you’re in New York,” says Connor enthusiastically. “There’s the parade, and there’s Times Square, and I got a really good deal on some tickets for a play on Broadway, and there are some cool restaurants I want to take you to. It’s going to be really fun.”

 

“That sounds awesome,” Evan says sincerely. “Hope you don’t mind playing tourist seeing as you’ve lived there for three years.”

 

“It’ll be great,” Connor insists. “I’ve never gotten to show someone I care about around the city before.”

 

Connor blushes bright pink at his words, and Evan knows he’s doing the same, and there’s this awkward but kind of hopeful silence, and then…

 

Evan’s phone rings.

 

He answers the call without looking at the caller ID. “This is Evan.”

 

“It’s Dr. Dubois,” comes a confident voice from the other end of the line. “I’m so sorry for the short notice, but there’s something we need your help with.”

 

“Oh,” Evan says, a little taken aback. “I’m actually planning on going away for the break, so-”

 

“This is urgent, I’m afraid,” Dr. Dubois interrupts. “I wouldn’t ask otherwise, and I don’t mean to be rude but there is a clause in the contract you signed that stipulates your availability for things of this nature.”

 

“Oh,” Evan says in a small voice. Connor’s looking at him quizzically and Evan’s heart is sinking because Connor sounded so happy…

 

“We’ll have a car pick you up at 6 am tomorrow morning to take you to the airport,” Dr. Dubois says.

 

“The airport?”

 

“Our urgent situation is in our lab in Vermont,” he says, tone smooth and confident and fake as always. “This is part of our bigger picture, Evan. You’ve proven yourself a valuable asset to the organization and this is the next step in your career with us.”

 

“Alright,” Evan says quietly. “How long will I be there?”

 

“A week, at most. We’re unclear as for now, but please pack accordingly. We’re aware this is last minute, so we’ll make every effort to keep you comfortable. Rest assured your accommodation will be extremely comfortable and you’ll be flying business class.”

 

“Well, uh, thank you,” Evan manages to get out. There are tears stinging at the back of his eyeballs and he’s trying to keep it together. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

 

“I’ll brief you on arrival,” Dr. Dubois says. “I’m at the lab now. I’ve got to go, but please call the office with any further questions, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“I’ll see you then,” he says quietly, then ends the call.

 

Connor’s staring at him, the expression on his face stony. “I guess that means we’ll have to do our New York adventure another time?” he says, deceptively calm.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Evan says in a rush. “It’s DYAD.”

 

Connor goes pale. “DYAD? What do they want?”

 

“Well, they reminded me that the contract I signed said I’d be available at a moment’s notice for shit like this,” Evan says with a sigh, “and tomorrow morning I’m apparently flying to Vermont to visit a lab for something urgent.”

 

Reed’s come back to the apartment sometime during the call and puts the food on the table with a frown. “Let us know what’s going on when you can,” Reed says, his tone concerned. “It sounds like they’re letting you in on more of their secrets. This could be huge for us.”

 

Evan’s heart is still at the bottom of his stomach because Connor doesn’t just look devastated that his plans for Thanksgiving are ruined, he looks… scared. Evan hates it. He hates it so much.

 

“It could be,” Evan says, trying to keep his tone level. “Or it could just be a waste of my time that fucks with my Thanksgiving plans.” He looks at Connor and instinctively reaches out and holds his hand. “Connor, I’m so sorry.”

 

Connor squeezes his hand, then kind of sniffs and looks away. “Not your fault.”

 

“Evan and Connor’s Excellent New York Adventure will happen, though,” Evan says firmly. “I promise.”

 

Connor looks back and gives a half-grin. “Are we really calling it that?”

 

“Yes. Yes we are.”

 

They start digging into the wide selection of samosas and spring rolls and fried tofu. Evan grabs the beers he’s taken to storing in Reed’s fridge and hands both Reed and Connor one, keeping one for himself. He definitely needs a fucking drink.

 

“Doesn’t Zoe live in Vermont?” Reed says conversationally. “Maybe you can catch up with her while you’re there. Meet the new girlfriend.”

 

From beside Evan, Connor starts a little. “Maybe,” says Evan noncommittally. “I think she’s sticking around campus for Thanksgiving, so maybe.”

 

“You should,” says Connor quietly. “You should see her. One of us should be able to see her.” He looks at Evan, eyes pleading. “Can you call her?”

 

Evan nods. “Okay.”

 

Connor opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “Can you put her on speaker when you call?”

 

Evan kind of wants to cry at the look on his face. “Connor…”

 

“I won’t say anything,” Connor assures him in a rush. “I swear, I won’t say a thing, I just… please let me hear her voice. Please.”

 

Evan turns to Reed. “Can we use your room?”

 

Reed’s expression is almost as sad as Connor’s. “Of course.”

 

Evan and Connor go into Reed’s room and sit cross-legged on their bed. Evan looks at Connor seriously. “Not a word,” he says gently. “You can’t, Connor, I’m serious.”

 

“I promise,” Connor assures him.

 

“I don’t think this is a good idea-”

 

“Please.”

 

Evan hits Zoe’s contact on his phone, then puts her on speaker and places the phone in between the two of them.

 

“Evan!” Zoe says, her voice tinny from the speaker. “How’s it going?”

 

“It’s going good,” he assures her. “Is this a bad time?”

 

“No, no,” she replies. “Hannah and I are just having dinner. There’s this cool Thai place near campus, the food is really good. You’d like the Pad Thai, I think it’s even better than that place we used to go back home. I’ll have to take you there sometime.”

 

“Actually, I’m flying to Vermont for work tomorrow,” Evan says, trying to keep his voice steady and clear. “So I’ll be around for… I’m not sure how long, but no more than a week. I thought we could catch up.”

 

“No way!” Zoe sounds young and carefree and excited. “It’ll be so good to see you, it’s been too long!”

 

“It’ll be good to see you, too,” Evan says warmly.

 

“You sound kind of weird,” Zoe says. “Is your phone doing something weird again?”

 

“Oh, you’re on speaker because I’m packing,” Evan lies. “I just wanted to let you know I was coming to town.”

 

“That’s so cool, I can’t wait to see you. And you can meet Hannah!” There’s a muffled sound from the end of the line, then Zoe’s voice reappears. “She’s excited! I think you’ll like her.”

 

“I’m sure I will.”

 

“I’d better let you get back to packing,” Zoe says apologetically. “Do you have to get up, like, super early in the morning?”

 

“I do,” Evan says, then chances a glance at Connor.

 

Connor who’s sitting there, still as a statue, pale as a sheet, silently crying as he listens to his sister’s voice. Connor looks right at him and shakes his head.

 

Evan can read something in his eyes.

 

Not yet.

 

“I’ve got some time, though,” Evan says. “Tell me what’s been going on.”

 

Zoe launches into an explanation of something funny her psychology lecturer did during the week, and talked about how she and Hannah are tossing up the idea of starting a punk band, and Evan’s not paying a lot of attention because he’s too busy staring at Connor.

 

Who’s staring at the phone like it’s the most important thing he’s ever seen in the entire world. Like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him from drowning. He’s hanging on every word Zoe’s saying and it’s all Evan can do to keep from crying because he knows how much Zoe misses her brother and he knows how much Connor misses his sister and it’s deeply, deeply unfair that they have to miss each other at all.

 

It’s deeply, deeply unfair that Evan’s the only thing connecting them and Zoe doesn’t even know it.

 

“You okay, Evan?” Zoe says, a little timid. “You just… don’t seem like yourself.”

 

“I’m fine,” Evan assures her. “It’s just… this trip was last minute and I had plans for the break I had to cancel, so I’m… I’m a bit disappointed, they were… they were good plans.”

 

He shoots Connor a meaningful look, but Connor's still staring at the phone, eyes red and face pale.

 

“That sucks,” Zoe says sympathetically. “But I’m really glad we’ll get to see you.”

 

“I’m glad I’ll get to see you, too,” Evan says. “I’d better get back to packing. I’ll text when I figure out what’s going on with work, okay?”

 

“Okay!” Zoe makes an exaggerated kissy noise on the other end of the line and laughs. “See you soon, Evan! I can’t wait to see you!”

 

“See you, Zoe.”

 

Evan ends the call. Connor takes in a shaky breath.

 

“Are you okay?” Evan asks, quietly.

 

Connor shakes his head.

 

“Do you want a hug?”

 

Connor nods.

 

Evan leans over awkwardly and wraps his arms around Connor’s shoulders. Connor grabs onto him for dear life in response and bursts into silent sobs, shoulders shaking. Evan thinks he might be crying as well, because none of this is fair, because neither of them asked for this, because it’s an undeniably shit situation and Connor shouldn’t have to be alone and Connor’s been alone for so long and he deserves to be happy and cared for and loved and…

 

Holy shit.

 

Evan might be in love with his not-dead no-longer-fake best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com! 
> 
> Hannah the drummer, Zoe's girlfriend, is the creation of the incredible @chchchchcherrybomb and you can learn more about her in their fic 'No Family, Too' which is a masterpiece: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14060514
> 
> ALSO: ... who messaged me on anon about yeast? I'm super curious as to what the hidden meaning behind that message is...


	23. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor takes the night off from being Ben Childs.

Connor has done plenty of things in his life that he regrets but he’s pretty sure having sex with the most annoying of his clones while super drunk and super high is up there with the worst.

 

He tries really hard to go back to sleep but he’s so grossed out with himself that instead, he has a shower, then puts his sheets on to wash, then curls up on the couch with a blanket and falls asleep while watching old episodes of Dragonball Z.

 

When he wakes up, he heats up some leftover Chinese food and inwardly curses his own impulse decision making because he feels like shit. It’s mid-afternoon and he’s kind of pissed at himself for missing school (again), which he can only attribute to the spirit of Ben Childs possessing his slacker ass.

 

Both of his phones are dead, so he puts them on to charge, finding messages from Torpedo on the clone phone and from Pippa on the regular phone. Torpedo wants to know what time to expect him in New Jersey. Pippa is pissed he’s not at school and tells him she’ll be at his apartment to pick him up for the party at 7.

 

Fuck.

 

Connor rubs his face, then makes a decision.

 

He bursts open the guest door and shakes Guy awake. Guy swears loudly in French then sits up and glares at him.

 

“First you kick me out of your bed then you wake me up,” he grumbles. “I am never having sex with you again.”

 

Connor clenches his jaw. “Don’t fucking talk to me about that,” he snaps. “I don’t want to fucking think about it.”

 

Guy snorts. “You are getting worked up over nothing,” he says, stretching a little. “I am up. What do you want?”

 

“Pippa’s picking Ben up for the party at 7,” he says. “You need to be Ben tonight. I have to go to New Jersey and take the data drive to Torpedo.”

 

Guy immediately perks up. “I thought you did not want this?”

 

“It’s an awful idea,” Connor says flatly. “But I’m too fucking tired and too fucking hungover to come up with another one, and Pippa’s been on my case too much recently, so… go ahead.” He glares at Guy. “Try not to be yourself.”

 

“But I am so handsome and charming.”

 

“Go fuck yourself.”

 

Guy gets up, still completely naked, and Connor turns around. Guy laughs. “It is nothing you have not seen before,” he says, as he puts on a pair of boxers. “I will see your wardrobe and make an outfit for tonight. For being Ben.”

 

Connor sighs and heads into Ben’s room, Guy following behind, then gestures to the wardrobe. “Go wild,” he says, then heads into the laundry to put his sheets on to dry.

 

Once he’s done that, he starts tidying up the apartment a little. Somehow, Guy’s managed to turn the place from relatively neat into a total pigsty in the less than 48 hours he’s been here. Connor really hopes that Torpedo can get the data encrypted quickly so he can get this French fucker out of his apartment and get things back to normal.

 

The thought kind of makes him chuckle to himself. What the fuck is normal anymore?

 

Guy comes back into the living area and does a stupid little twirl. “What do you think?” he says.

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

 

“I do not think you have much fashion sense,” he says seriously. “But as long as I look enough like you, your Pippa will not notice.”

 

“As long as you don’t talk too much,” Connor points out. “Seriously, just shut the fuck up. Nod and smile and try not to be too… French.”

 

Guy sniffs and rolls his eyes. “I think you worry too much.”

 

“I think you don’t worry enough.”

 

Guy stares at him for a moment, then breaks into a wry smile. “You remind me of Eric, you know. Both so serious.”

 

“This is serious business,” Connor says darkly. “There’s DYAD, there’s the killer on the loose… who knows what other things are going to pop out of the woodwork?”

 

Guy just kind of tilts his head. “I do not know what you mean.”

 

Connor sighs. “Who knows what’s going to happen next?”

 

Guy laughs and slaps him on the shoulder. “You are too negative. Not everything is terrible.”

 

Connor doesn’t think he believes him, but he’s not about to get into an argument about it.

 

“Just… don’t be an asshole,” he says with a sigh. He takes out his phone and hands it to Guy. “Here. Take this. Passcode is 1908. Pippa will probably text when she’s downstairs, so…”

 

Guy looks at the phone, then back to Connor, and kind of frowns. “You will not need this?”

 

Connor shrugs. “Nope. I’m just another clone now. You’re Ben Childs for the night. Have fun.”

 

Guy rolls his eyes. “You do not seem too concerned about me going to a party with your girlfriend, mon ami. It is curious.”

 

Connor’s not really sure what to say to that, so he just shrugs again and picks up his bag, double-checking to make sure the data drive is in it. “Oh,” he says as he remembers, reaching into his bag again, “here’s a spare key. But _don’t_ bring Pippa back here, okay?”

 

Guy smirks as he takes it. “I note that you are not telling me not to have sex with your girlfriend.”

 

Connor rubs his face. His head still hurts. “Don’t have sex with my girlfriend.”

 

Guy laughs, Connor flips him off and heads out of the apartment.

 

He turns on the radio as loud as he can stand it once he gets into his car and drives to New Jersey, trying not to think too much about last night’s insanity. He’s got to stop being so fucking self-destructive if he wants to pull this off. If he wants to fucking survive.

 

When he gets to Torpedo’s, the usual car isn’t in the doorway. He heads around the side of the house to Torpedo’s room door and lets himself in. Torpedo’s playing something on his X-Box but looks up when he sees Connor and grins widely.

 

“Hey man,” he says brightly. Connor closes the door and Torpedo raises his eyebrows. “No Guy?”

 

“Nope,” Connor replies, going to sit down on the couch next to him. “He’s being Ben tonight.”

 

Torpedo pauses his game and turns to look at Connor. “Wait, seriously? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

 

“Not at all,” Connor replies honestly, “but Pippa is getting on my case, and Guy is the best option at this point.” He lies his head back against the couch. “Fuck I’m exhausted.”

 

“You look it,” Torpedo says with a smirk. Connor hits him on the shoulder. “Did Guy drag you out on the town last night?”

 

Connor looks at Torpedo in alarm. “Why would you think that?”

 

“Because he told me playing video games and watching movies was lame. I figured he’d be more of a wild party type.”

 

Connor sighs. “Yeah, we went out, and I got very drunk and… let’s not talk about it.”

 

“You’re okay, though, right?” Torpedo ventures, his voice a little hesitant.

 

“I don’t know,” Connor replies, rubbing his face. “Things are… weird.”

 

“Weird is the watchword around here,” Torpedo quips. “I seriously doubt it’s gonna get less weird.” He looks at him sympathetically. “Is there anything I can do?”

 

“Decrypt this data and get that French asshole on a plane back to France,” Connor says, handing the device in question to Torpedo. “And while it’s decrypting… you said something about movies and popcorn?”

 

Torpedo grins. “I can do that.”

 

* * *

 

Guy looks around the room at the party with satisfaction. This is more like what he had in mind for a typical American high school party. There is alcohol. There is loud music. There is dancing. People are drunk and acting like idiots. It’s just like what you see on TV.

 

It is exactly what he had hoped for - a typical American high school party experience.

 

He’d met Pippa outside the apartment and kissed her passionately after entering the car, which she seemed to enjoy but find somewhat surprising. This in itself does not surprise Guy, as by now he is certain that Ben is, in fact, gay. When they arrived at the party, they had spent about half an hour kissing while parked in Pippa’s car, which Guy found most enjoyable. She is very beautiful, and she seemed to enjoy herself.

 

Guy understands why Ben would be in a relationship with such a beautiful woman even if he is not interested in women, but he does not understand why she would stay with him if he could not provide for her physical needs. Then again, Guy has never desired to be tied to one person. Relationships to him seem like a waste of time - life is short and everyone is beautiful, why not enjoy them all?

 

Still, he feels somewhat badly for Pippa and her boyfriend who does not love nor desire her, and hopes he can provide her an enthusiastic partner for the night. Ben had told him not to sleep with her, but he does not think he was entirely serious - in some ways, Guy is doing him a favor.

 

The house where the party is being hosted is nice - large, well decorated and full of people. He’s handed a whiskey as soon as he arrives, which he appreciates. It appears that this party is a step above warm beer. These people have wealth, it is obvious. As someone who comes from wealth, it reassures him - he can do this.

 

Pippa breaks off to see friends, and Guy is left standing by the doorframe, drinking his whiskey. He looks around, sees a group playing pool and goes to join them. They smile as he approaches and he smiles back - Ben must know them.

 

“You in, Childs?” says one of them, short with red hair and freckles.

 

Buy nods, takes the cue and takes a shot. He manages to sink three balls and the group yell in appreciation. The redheaded man grins at him. “Fuck man, you’ve definitely improved since junior year,” he says, slapping him on the back agreeably.

 

“Practice,” he says, with as close to an American accent as he can manage.

 

The man tilts his head a little. “You got a cold, dude? Your voice sounds a bit weird.”

 

“Yes,” he says, grateful for the excuse. “A small cold.”

 

“Change of season,” says one of the other men. “It’ll fuck you up.” He smiles and rolls his eyes. “Guessing Pippa dragged you along tonight, huh? We missed you at the first one.”

 

“Pippa said I had to attend,” Guy says, still struggling to maintain an American accent. Putain, it was hard to speak like the Americans.

 

“You don’t argue with Pippa,” says another man, laughing. “She’s definitely a spitfire. Super hot, though, man. Good on you for locking that down for so long.”

 

Guy grins in response and raises his whiskey in salute. The men cheer.

 

He finishes the game, wins by a long shot then bows out gracefully to find another drink. He’s trying to navigate this maze of a house when all of a sudden, some grabs his arm and drags him into an empty room and shuts the door.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” says the man. He’s blond and he’s not unattractive, though Guy doesn’t usually go for blond men.

 

“I have been unwell,” he says, trying to feign confidence and keep up the accent.

 

The man frowns. “Something’s not right.”

 

“I should go back to the party-”

 

“Something’s not been right for a while,” he says, standing in front of the closed door, preventing Guy from leaving. “Ever since this summer. It’s like you’re an entirely different person.”

 

Guy fixes an expression of confusion on his. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

 

“You sound completely weird,” he says, narrowing his eyes a little. “You sound weird, you’re completely unpredictable, you keep forgetting things… there’s something going on with you.”

 

“I am fine,” he insists. “I need to go find Pippa.”

 

The man laughs hollowly. “Pippa. Right. You don’t love her. You don’t even touch her anymore unless you have to. I’ve been watching you guys together and it’s complete bullshit. She doesn’t make you happy, you don’t seem to be able to make her happy… why are you still together?”

 

“She is my girlfriend,” Guy says, not knowing what else to say. “I am with her because I love her, it is obvious.”

 

The man shakes his head. “No. No, it’s not obvious, it’s…” He trails off and walks away from the door, pacing in the room. “There’s something wrong. I know it. I can feel it. You’re not you anymore, you’re…” He stops. “Have you been getting drugs from someone else? Getting some harder shit than I'm selling? Because that’s the only thing I can think of. You’re on something weird and experimental that’s fucking you up, Jesus Christ.”

 

Guy has absolutely no idea what’s going on. He is going to slap Ben when he sees him next, because he should not have been thrown into this situation without warning. “I do not want to talk about this,” he snaps, opening the door and walking back into the party.

 

It doesn’t take him too long to find Pippa. She’s more than a little tipsy and greets him with open arms. Guy kisses her passionately and her friends wolf-whistle in approval.

 

“I want you,” he murmurs into her ear.

 

She giggles and drags him upstairs into one of the many spare rooms, locking the door behind them and unzipping her dress. Guy smiles.

 

This he can handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, feel free to say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com - I promise I'm very friendly :) 
> 
> Also, thank you for clearing up the mystery, yeast anon. I think it's quite clear now that as a fandom grandma, I don't understand the youths.


	24. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan goes to Vermont and gets more than he expected.

Evan doesn’t really sleep that night. 

 

He leaves Reed’s around 10 pm, after Connor insists that he’s fine and that Evan’s going to need to be well-rested for his DYAD visit. Evan’s not a hundred percent convinced, but he lets Connor drive him home anyway. When they arrive outside Evan’s building, Evan’s sure for a moment that Connor’s going to say something, but instead, he smiles weakly and tells Evan to travel safely. 

 

He’s always had trouble sleeping when he’s had to be up early the next morning, and tonight his thoughts are just everywhere, so it’s not helping at all. He can’t stop thinking about the devastated look on Connor’s face, how awful it is that there are so many secrets that need to be kept, how lonely he must have been for the past three years while his family mourned him and Ben’s family ignored him. 

 

Evan thinks about Connor’s sharp features and soft smile and about how the angry boy he remembers from high school has turned into this sad but hopeful man who’s doing the best he can in an impossible situation. He thinks about Connor crying on his shoulder and the realization hitting him like a train that his feelings for Connor are so much more than he ever imagined, that all he wants to do is keep him safe and happy and hear him laugh and kiss powdered sugar off his nose. 

 

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should say something, if there’s even a chance that Connor feels the same way, and even if he does, what kind of life could they possibly have together? What kind of relationship could they have? He can’t imagine not being able to tell his mom about a relationship. He can’t imagine not being able to tell Zoe about a relationship. 

 

Evan’s keeping so many secrets and he doesn’t know if he can handle a secret boyfriend on top of everything. 

 

It wouldn’t work. 

 

Would it?

 

At about 4 am, he finally gives up on trying to sleep and gets up to have breakfast. He’d picked up bacon and eggs to make a decent meal for he and Connor before they drove to New York, and the contents of his fridge are just another reminder that he wasn’t going to get to see New York with Connor. He puts the bacon in the freezer and cooks up some scrambled eggs and makes some coffee and tries to attribute the sick feeling in his stomach to lack of sleep. 

 

He checks his clone phone and finds he’s somehow missed some messages.

 

Group cat:  **pinkpunk, treeeees, torpeedo**

 

**pinkpunk:** hey Ev

**pinkpunk** : told torpdo whats going on

**torpeedo** : hey evan

**torpeedo** : be careful ok?

**torpeedo** : let us know wat u find but be careful

**torpeedo** : this could b rly usful for us

**pinkpunk** : agreed, b careful

**pinkpunk** : we appreciate this

**pinkpunk** : we no its a risk and we appreciate it

**torpeedo** : yeh

**pinkpunk** : also

**pinkpunk** : not going home for thanksgiving

**pinkpunk** : called the moms

**pinkpunk** : gonna stay with con

**pinkpunk** : just wanted u2 no

 

Evan kind of smiles a little. At least Connor won’t be alone. 

 

**treeeees** : I’ll be careful

**treeeees** : and thank you Reed

**treeeees** : I’m glad you’re there for him

 

He’s outside his apartment building at 6 and there’s an honest to god limo waiting to pick him up. He looks around nervously, realizing how weird it’s going to look in this relatively sketchy neighborhood, but it’s 6 am and there’s no one around, so he just gets in with his suitcase and kind of dozes off on the way to the airport. 

 

He’s never traveled business class before and they’re constantly asking if he wants anything and it’s a little bit ridiculous but he has to admit, the seats are comfortable. He kind of dozes on the flight as well, and when he gets to Vermont he feels worse than he did when he left home, but tries to get his head in the game. 

 

There’s a man holding a sign with his name on at the airport and it’s all really weird. 

 

They take him straight to the DYAD building. Someone takes his suitcase and assures him they’re putting it somewhere safe and he follows the receptionist through to a plush office room, where Dr. Dubois is sitting at a desk. He rises to meet him and shakes Evan’s hand, that plastic smile still stuck on his face. 

 

“Thank you for making the trip,” Dr. Dubois says, his tone unnaturally friendly. He sits and gestures for Evan to take a seat on the other side of the desk. “How was your flight?”

 

“Good,” Evan replies. “What’s going on?”

 

Dr. Dubois slides a photo across the desk. “You’ve seen this before, I take it.”

 

Evan stares. 

 

It’s a photo of Connor. The same photo of Connor they used at his funeral. 

 

His heart starts pounding. His head hurts and there are a million questions jumping into his brain. Do they know Connor’s still alive? Do they know he and Evan weren’t really friends in high school? Do they know Ben Childs is dead? Do they know the clones are in touch with each other?

 

He makes a split second decision. 

 

“This is Connor Murphy,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “He was my best friend in high school. He… he took his own life.”

 

Dr. Dubois nods. “And this face… does it look like anyone else you know?”

 

“Reed,” he says immediately. “He looks like Reed.” He looks at Dr. Dubois. “I thought it was a weird coincidence, but… it’s not, is it? There’s something going on.”

 

Dr. Dubois smiles. “Welcome to the big picture, Evan. We’ve decided that it’s time to let you in on why you’re monitoring Reed. You see, Connor Murphy and Reed Albrecht don’t just have the same face, they have the same DNA. They’re genetically identical.”

 

“Cloning,” Evan says, his voice still a little unsteady. “Are you telling me that DYAD has perfected human cloning?”

 

“In the year 2000, years of work came to fruition and we implanted clone embryos in pregnant women all around the globe,” says Dr. Dubois. “Some were volunteers, whereas some were unaware and believed they were receiving standard IVF treatment. The Phanes Project was a huge success, and we’ve been monitoring the health and wellbeing of these clones since then.” 

 

“All the clones have monitors?” Evan asks. He frowns. “Who was Connor’s?”

 

“His father.” Dr. Dubois nods to himself. “Most of the clones were monitored by a parent from a young age. It’s only now as they begin to spread their wings and leave home that we bring on people like yourself to continue the experiment.”

 

“How many are there?” Evan asks, eyes wide. 

 

Dr. Dubois smiles. “I’m afraid the exact number is classified, but there are plenty. Obviously, in the grand scheme of the world’s population, they make a minuscule percentage, but if you did enough traveling, I’m sure you’d come across another one.” 

 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” says Evan, trying to keep his tone polite, “but you said this was urgent. Why are you telling me this now?”

 

“We’ve flown over one of our specialists in from the UK,” says Dr. Dubois. “He’s only here for a short amount of time, and I wanted you to meet him face to face.” His expression turns grave. “We also have a… situation we want you to be aware of.” He pushes an intercom on his desk. “Michelle, could you please let Mr. Morgan know we’re ready for him?”

 

Dr. Dubois stands up, and Evan follows suit. The door opens and once again, Evan finds himself looking at a face he knows. 

 

“Evan Hansen, meet Dominic Morgan,” says Dr. Dubois, gesturing at them both. 

 

Dominic looks Evan up and down, then extends his hand politely. “How do you do,” he says, in an upper-class English accent. Evan takes his hand and tries not to stare. 

 

Dominic holds himself completely differently to Reed and Connor. He stands tall and confident, in a suit that looks like it costs more than Evan’s apartment. Dominic has neatly trimmed short hair and a well-manicured beard and everything about him is polished and sharp, but not sharp in the way Connor is all jagged edges or the way that Reed is all dramatic angles. Dominic is sharp in a way that reminds him of a shark’s tooth, a razor blade, something that will cut with surgical precision and deadly accuracy. 

 

This one is dangerous. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Evan says finally. 

 

“Dominic is DYAD born and bred,” Dr. Dubois says conversationally. “He’s been raised entirely self-aware and is, therefore, a valuable asset to the experiment.” 

 

“You are Reed Albrecht’s monitor, is that correct?” Dominic asks Evan. Evan nods. “Subject 719E14. An unusual one. Non-binary gender identity is undeniably fascinating. I’m sure you agree.”

 

“I think Reed is exactly who they want to be,” Evan replies. Something about this one is putting him on guard, and it’s more than a little unsettling to be genuinely on edge due to a face that’s so familiar. 

 

Dominic smiles blandly. “Yes, well. I admire your devotion to your subject.” He looks at Dr. Dubois. “Shall we proceed to the laboratory?”

 

“Yes,” says Dr. Dubois, smiling at Evan. Evan still can’t get over how unreal the smile feels. 

 

He follows Dr. Dubois and Dominic down the corridor, to an elevator and down through increasingly colder looking hallways, until they finally in a room that looks more like an operating theatre. There’s a body still on a gurney, and Evan’s pretty sure his heart stops for a moment because the body on the gurney is an unconscious clone. 

 

He’s bald and covered with electrodes, hooked to an IV, with skin that’s almost unnaturally pale and almost paper thin. As they approach, Evan can see individual veins under the near-translucence, and the sick feeling that’s had a hold of his stomach since the night before increases. 

 

The clone's eyes are closed but Evan can see movement, as if he’s looking around in a nightmare. He’s covered in blankets but he’s shivering a little, and there are erratic beeping noises coming from one of the machines he’s hooked up to. 

 

“This is Douglas Acker,” Dr. Dubois says, his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness of the room. “Another clone.”

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Evan asks, fighting to keep down the bile that’s threatening to rise up in the back of his throat. 

 

He knows it’s not Connor there. He knows. 

 

“It’s a genetic anomaly,” says Dominic in that clipped, emotionless voice. “It affects the brain, somewhat akin to epilepsy, but it’s proving to be fatal and untreatable. Symptoms include headaches, then loss of consciousness, seizures, intense pain and memory loss. Eventually, they fall into a near comatose state.” He lowers his head somewhat in what looks like a cruel caricature of solemn, dignified grief. “We believe Mr. Acker is near the end of his time. He’s here so we can study him and determine a course of treatment that may save the other clones.” 

 

“You think that all of the clones are susceptible to this,” Evan says slowly. “You think Reed and… and the others, they could all die.” 

 

_ Connor _ could die. 

 

“We’re aware that Reed has an interest in genetics,” says Dr. Dubois, his tone amiable. “We’d like you to float the idea of taking on an internship with us to them. We don’t like to tamper with the experiment - it has to be their decision - but it could prove useful, and it’s an interesting angle. After all, who is more qualified to work on their own biology than one of the clones?”

 

“They’re a junior in college,” Evan points out. “I mean, I’m sure they’ll be interested in the work you’re doing, but… can they really make a difference?”

 

“At this point, a fresh perspective may be just what is needed,” says Dominic coolly. “You yourself have a scientific mind, and a vested interest in your subject. We agreed that now was the time to bring you into the fold.” There’s a flash of real emotion across Dominic’s sharp face for the briefest of seconds. “We would… prefer not to lose another clone. At this stage, we’ll take all the help we can get.”

 

Evan swallows. Dr. Dubois smiles. “I understand this is a lot to process,” he says, his tone an approximation of kind. “You’ll need some time to think about this, so we’ll take you to your hotel and arrange to meet up with you tomorrow morning to go over everything we have on the clone illness.” 

 

“Alright,” says Evan, nodding, because what else is he going to do? Dr. Dubois leads him out of the lab and back through the maze of the building to reception, where Michelle the receptionist has his bag and a car ready to take him to the hotel. 

 

He checks in, gets to his room and barely registers that this is a really fancy hotel room because crumbling in a heap on the sofa. It’s hard to breathe and there’s a tightness in his chest and he can’t quite focus. He’s too tired and there are too many emotions swirling through him. Too much has happened. Too much is happening. 

 

He manages to pull out his clone phone and tries to figure out what to say. 

 

He has no idea what to say. 

 

Group chat:  **torpeedo** ,  **soccer_guy** ,  **pinkpunk** ,  **emochilds** ,  **treeeees**

 

**treeeees** : spent the morning at DYAD

**treeeees** : they told me about clones

**treeeees** : there’s a lot to report back on

**treeeees** : but it’s a lot

**treeeees** : like, it’s really a lot

**emochilds** : are u ok

**treeeees** : i don’t know where to start

**treeeees** : some serious bombshells and i don’t feel like this is the best place to drop them

**torpeedo** : ok

**torpeedo** : can we Skype?

**treeeees** : tomorrow maybe? I need some time to sort it out?

**treeeees** : it’s just

**treeeees** : it’s a lot and I haven’t slept and it’s been a very tense morning

**pinkpunk** : take ur time

**pinkpunk** : this is big

**emochilds** : are you okay??

**treeeees** : I’ll get more info tomorrow

**treeeees** : so will report back on the big picture

**soccer_guy** : anything we can do

**treeeees** : just hold tight

 

Private message from  **emochilds** :

 

**emochilds** : are you okay??

**emochilds** : please answer the question

**treeeees** : I’m okay

**emochilds** : are u sure?

**treeeees** : I’m fine

**emochilds** : ok

**emochilds** : sorry for freaking out on u last night

**treeeees** : no you’re fine

**treeeees** : it’s… a lot

**emochilds** : reed came to ny with me

**treeeees** : jealous

**emochilds** : we’re just chilling

**emochilds** : its less fun without u

**treeeees** : I wish I were there

**emochilds** : wish u were here 2

 

Evan drags himself off the sofa. He feels heavy, like his whole body is made of cement. He moves into the bedroom and curls up on the ridiculously big bed. 

 

And vaguely realizes he’s crying just before he falls asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/ if you want to file a complaint with HR. 
> 
> Also, I'm HR, so good luck with that.


	25. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor deals with the aftermath of "Ben Childs" gone wild.

Connor seriously considers staying in Torpedo’s basement forever, eating cookies and popcorn, smoking weed, watching cheesy movies, playing video games and not having to impersonate his dead clone. 

 

Then when he gets in his car to drive back to New York, he seriously considers just changing direction and driving across the border into Canada so he doesn’t have to keep impersonating his dead clone. 

 

But on Sunday afternoon he drives back to New York because knowing his luck, he’d just run into some other asshole with his face if he went to Canada, and that’s not what he needs right now. 

 

When he gets back to the apartment, it looks like a bomb has gone off. There are pizza boxes everywhere, as well as empty bottles of vodka and clothes and, most disturbingly, a bright pink pair of panties hanging from the top of the television. 

 

Connor looks at the carnage for a long moment, then goes into his room. Thankfully, it hasn’t been touched. He sits down on the bed and notices that Guy has left his black phone sitting on the duvet. He goes to check it and finds it’s full of texts and at least three missed calls. All from Jerome.

 

From: Jerome

_ we need to talk _

_ Im serious ben _

_ Im worried about you _

_ Im coming to your house _

_ Im at the door _

_ let me in _

_ I know youre in there _

_ I can hear you _

_ what the fuck _

_ youre having a party? _

_ jesus fuck  _

_ you dont do shit like this _

_ just _

_ call me when youre ready to talk _

_ what are you on _

_ what are you on ben _

_ where did you get it _

_ please call me _

 

Connor throws the phone against the pillow and rubs his face. Jesus fucking fuck. 

 

Then he gets up and checks in on Guy, who is indeed passed out in the guest room, sandwiched between some redhead guy Ben vaguely remembers from History class and his chemistry lab partner Janelle. 

 

Oh shit. 

 

Connor grabs his bag and his phone and heads out of the apartment building. He’s not sure what he’s going to do for the next few hours but he sure as hell isn’t going to be staying in that apartment. 

 

He sighs. 

 

He doesn’t want to, but he should at least do some damage control in one area of Ben’s life. 

 

He calls Jerome. 

 

Jerome answers on the second ring. “Fucking finally,” he says, sounding both relieved and pissed off. “Ben. What the hell.”

 

“We should talk in person,” says Connor hesitantly. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I’ll come to your place,” Jerome offers. 

 

“No!” he practically shouts. “No, no, I can come to you.”

 

Jerome’s voice is uncertain. “You’ve never come to mine.”

 

Well, at least that saves him from having to bluff his way through not knowing the address. “Well, I’m doing it now, okay? What’s your address?”

 

“I’ll text it to you.”

 

“Okay. See you soon.”

 

He takes a cab to a part of town he doesn’t recognize and finds himself in a rundown apartment building. He knocks on the door, hoping he’s at the right address, and there’s Jerome, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. 

 

Connor can’t help feeling really fucking guilty about it. 

 

“Ben Childs, as I live and breathe,” Jerome says finally. “Come in.”

 

The apartment is tiny. Miniscule, even. It’s a studio and it’s tidy, but it’s cramped and only just slightly bigger than Ben’s room. Connor watches Jerome’s face. He’s embarrassed. There’s a reason he’d never brought Ben here. 

 

Connor looks at Jerome. “I’m sorry.”

 

Jerome raises his eyebrows. “You’re sorry? You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

 

Connor thinks fast. “I’m… things are really stressful at the moment, okay? And I’m forgetting things and having a hard time focusing and just really trying to get through the year and keep my grades up so I can go to college and be down with fucking high school because it’s… it’s awful, everyone’s awful, they’re all fake assholes and… I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you.”

 

Jerome looks at him, his expression troubled. “This doesn’t seem like just stress,” he says gently. “You’re not yourself. You’re… please just tell me if you’re on anything else. If you’ve bought drugs from anyone else.”

 

“I’m not on anything else,” Connor snaps. “I’m barely even smoking pot anymore, dude.”

 

Jerome frowns. “See, that’s the thing - you never liked pot. Nothing’s adding up anymore.” He laughs hollowly. “And with Pippa… fucking hell, she’s not exactly the most observant girl out there but she’s going to figure out you’re blowing hot and cold with her sooner rather than later. One minute you’re acting like kissing her is causing you physical pain, the next you’re dragging her off to have loud sex at a party.”

 

Fucking hell, Guy. 

 

“I was drunk,” Connor says feebly. 

 

Jerome just stares at him. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore, man.”

 

“What am I supposed to say to that?” Connor asks, frustrated. “I’m sorry if you’ve got me on some kind of pedestal, Jerome, but I’m just as fucked up as anyone else.”

 

Jerome frowns. “Who says I’ve got you on a pedestal?”

 

Connor laughs. “Oh, come on. You deal drugs to dumb teenagers. You’ve never let me see your place before today. You’re sitting here telling me I’m not acting like myself, like you’re some kind of expert on me, and you judge my relationship with Pippa but you’re perfectly happy to fuck me when the mood strikes you. It’s all just bullshit and you know it.”

 

“I’m worried about you,” Jerome shoots back.

 

Connor’s mind is kind of spinning, but he takes a chance. He takes a step closer to Jerome and reaches out a hand to grab his arm. Jerome doesn’t pull away. “Let’s be honest with each other,” says Connor in a low voice. “Let’s be honest about what this is really about.”

 

Jerome rolls his eyes. “You think just because I’m attracted to you I’m going to-”

 

“I think you just don’t like the idea of me and Pippa,” Connor interrupts. “Because you’d rather it were you.”

 

Jerome grabs his face and kisses him fiercely. Connor can’t help claiming it as a victory, but there’s this nagging sensation at the bottom of his stomach as he lets Jerome lead him to the too-small bed that this isn’t fair on either of them. 

 

The man Jerome loves is dead and Connor’s a poor replacement. 

 

But he’ll try his best. 

 

They end up in a sweaty, tangled heap on Jerome’s bed after, Jerome tracing circles on Connor’s shoulder. Connor kisses his neck and then takes a deep breath. 

 

“You were right,” he admits quietly. “I have been buying from someone else.”

 

Jerome looks at him, his expression a little quizzical. “Why?”

 

“I didn’t want you to know how fucked up I was,” Connor confesses. “So I got… something fucking weird off some guy at a bar, I don’t know, and then last night I… I kind of fucked everything up and I’m pretty sure Pippa’s going to kill me.” He rolls his eyes. “I just… things have been rough. I can’t really explain it, but… there’s been a lot going on and I’ve been feeling really…” Connor takes a deep breath as he realizes what he’s about to say is actually true. “I’ve been feeling really down. Confused, and scared, and… like my whole world is crumbling around me and I’m just trying to hold on for dear life, and it’s nothing like I expected it to be and I’m not sure what to do.”

 

“As a businessman, I’m a little offended you’re getting product somewhere else,” Jerome says, a slight smile in his voice. “As your friend… I’m just worried, okay? If you need to talk… about anything, I’m around. I… I really do care about you, you know? I wouldn’t have been such an asshole about things if I didn’t.”

 

“I care about you too,” Connor says, resting his head on Jerome’s shoulder. “I just… bear with me, okay?”

 

“Have you thought about seeing a doctor for some legal pharmaceuticals?” Jerome suggests. “Antidepressants, maybe. It sounds like… well, it’s not sounding great, and I know I’m a fucking hypocrite because I sell shit to help people self-medicate, but from what you’re saying… maybe you need to get some proper help.” He brushes Connor’s hair off his face. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Jerome’s words are like a knife to Connor’s heart, and he’s horribly, horribly sad for a moment. 

 

Jerome’s already lost Ben and he doesn’t even know it.

 

Connor gets back to the apartment late that night and Guy’s on the couch, eating pizza and watching TV. Connor just stares at him for a moment, then stands in front of the TV and crosses his arms. “What the actual fuck, dude?”

 

Guy groans. “I was watching that.”

 

“I saw you in bed with Janelle and… fuck, I can’t remember his name, but he’s in my history class.”

 

Guy cackles. “Ah, yes, Peter. Inexperienced, but most enthusiastic.” He raises an eyebrow. “You told me not to bring Pippa here, and I did not.”

 

Connor blinks. “So what you’re saying as while pretending to be Ben, you threw a party and didn’t invite your girlfriend?” He throws his hands up in frustration. “What the actual fuck? Who else was there? Pippa’s going to find out and she’s going to freak the fuck out and never speak to me again, what the fuck?”

 

Guy sniffs. “Why would you care? You do not love her.”

 

“Goddammit, Guy, why are you such an asshole?”

 

Guy shrugs. “It was not a party, it was just Peter and Janelle.” He grins. “At the party on Friday, I was with Pippa. She dropped me home, it was fine. Saturday, Janelle called to work on chemistry, and… well… I am good at the chemistry, so…”

 

Connor sighs. “And Peter?”

 

“He came back to drop off my jacket,” Guy says cheerfully. “We invited him in for music and vodka and pizza. It was a most beautiful experience.”

 

“Pippa is going to find out,” says Connor, crossing his arms. “And she’s going to fucking kill me.”

 

“She will not find out,” Guy assures him. “Peter is… how do you say, in the closet. He will not say a word. And Janelle… she is somewhat frightened of Pippa, though I do not understand why, as Pippa is a very sweet girl.” Guy smirks. “Very sweet.”

 

Connor sighs. “I distinctly remember asking you not to fuck my girlfriend.”

 

Guy laughs. “Mon ami, it is clear that wherever you just came from, you have also been well and truly fucked.” He tilts his head. “The blond man. He talked to me at the party. He was suspicious. You have seen him and you have made everything alright. He is your secret lover.”

 

“Jerome talked to you at the party,” Connor confirms. “Of course he fucking did.”

 

Guy rolls his eyes and takes a bite of a piece of pizza. “Et voilà. Peter will not say anything, Janelle will not say anything, you have settled things with your secret lover - tout va bien. Everything is okay and you can let me watch my TV show, yes?”

 

Connor narrows his eyes, leans over to take a piece of pizza and then storms off to Ben’s room. He eats the pizza and goes to bed. 

 

Monday morning, Pippa texts to say she’s picking him up, and Connor’s mentally preparing himself for the worst. When he gets into Pippa’s car, he leans in to kiss her and she turns her head so he ends up kissing her ear instead. 

 

Connor knows fuck all about women but feels this is a bad sign. 

 

She starts driving, hands gripping the steering wheel. It takes a few blocks before she says anything. “So I hear you and Janelle had fun over the weekend.”

 

“If you call studying for chemistry fun, then sure,” Connor says, trying to keep his tone light. 

 

Pippa laughs. “You must think I’m a complete fucking idiot.”

 

“I don’t think that, Pippa.”

 

“I’m just so sick of your fucking bipolar bullshit, Ben,” she snaps. “One minute you’re practically ignoring me, then you’re like, completely into having sex with me for the first time in weeks, then you’re sleeping with someone else? What the fucking hell is wrong with you?”

 

“Pippa, I swear, I didn’t have sex with Janelle,” Connor says. At least he can actually say that honestly. “I’m really not interested in her at all.”

 

Pippa frowns. “Well, everyone’s talking about you guys alone together. You were flirting with her at the party on Friday and then she spends all day Saturday with you? I’m not an idiot. People are talking and I don’t like it.” She shoots Connor a thunderous look. “If you’re going to fuck me over, at least have the decency not to make a spectacle about it, alright?”

 

“I promise nothing happened,” Connor says firmly. “These people are vultures, they’re just after the next big scandal to distract them from their own boring lives. They’re making shit up so there’s something to talk about.”

 

Pippa’s quiet for a moment, then the corner of her mouth curls into a small smile. “Okay,” she says finally. “Let’s say I believe you. What’s the game plan for today?”

 

Connor blinks. “What?”

 

Pippa rolls her eyes. “The game plan. To show that this is all bullshit so everything dies down.” 

 

“Uh…”

 

“I’m thinking we up the PDA,” Pippa continues. “Walk me to class, be seen kissing me, holding hands, that sort of thing. If we look strong and happy, then people will think twice about stupid rumors.” She rolls her eyes again. “It’ll blow over as long as we present a united front.”

 

Connor thinks it’s just going to make them look like they’ve got something to prove, but he doesn’t know how to do high school politics. He’s got no fucking clue. He’s going to have to defer to Pippa on this one. 

 

“Oh, and Ben?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Pippa’s smile is sweet and dangerous, like apples filled with razor blades. “Get a new chem lab partner.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi! https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/


	26. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan's DYAD trip continues.

Evan’s woken by a call from DYAD at 7am the next morning. It’s Michelle the receptionist, telling him there’ll be a car to collect up in an hour and a half and to be sure to have a decent breakfast at the hotel restaurant and charge it to his room. Evan takes that to mean it’s going to be a long day.

 

He showers quickly then checks his clone phone, which is full of increasingly concerned messages from Connor and Torpedo, albeit for different reasons. Torpedo wants to know what he’s found. Connor wants to know if he’s okay. Evan frowns. After getting back to the hotel yesterday, he’d more or less crashed, so it’s been about 18 hours since he was last in touch with them.

 

He flicks a quick message to the group chat to let them know he’s okay, just tired, and that he’ll be going into DYAD today to learn more so will be able to give them a full report tonight. Then he gets dressed and heads down for breakfast, forcing himself to order something substantial even though his stomach still feels like it’s going to rebel.

 

Right before the car to take him to DYAD arrives, he sends Connor a quick message.

 

 **treeeees** : i promise I’m okay

 **treeeees** : heading into dyad now

 **treeeees** : i’ll have a better idea of what’s going on soon

 

The reply is almost instant.

 

 **emochilds** : be careful

 **emochilds** : please

 

When he arrives at the DYAD building, he’s led to yet another basement laboratory, where a group of scientists are hard at work. It’s a large room, and in the corner there is, yet again, a gurney with a body on it.

 

Except this time, the body is covered in a white sheet.

 

Evan thinks he’s going to throw up his breakfast.

 

Dr. Dubois greets him as he arrives, shaking his hand and introducing him to the scientists working. “You’re just in time,” he says, almost cheerfully. “Mr. Acker passed away last night. We’re doing an autopsy. Would you like to look in?”

 

Evan really, really, really doesn’t want to do that.

 

“Alright,” he says, despite himself. A part of him feels like he owes it to this dead clone.

 

He can’t explain why he feels so guilty about this.

 

As they perform the autopsy, Evan manages to keep it together, which he’s weirdly proud of himself for. Every inch of him is vibrating with horror as they slice into a dead body that looks just like Connor, just like Reed, just like all the others.

 

A body that looks like people he cares about.

 

He excuses himself half an hour into the procedure to be violently ill in the bathroom. When he returns, one of the other scientists approaches him. “I thought you might like to read some of the reports so far,” she says, her voice soft and kind, with a faint trace of an accent Evan can’t quite place. “Dr. Dubois, do you mind if I borrow Mr. Hansen here?”

 

“Of course,” says Dr. Dubois, almost kindly, and Evan gratefully follows the scientist. She leads him into another room, which is… not what he expects. There’s a sofa, and a sink, and an electric kettle. She turns on the kettle then gestures for him to sit.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she says. Her tone is legitimately kind. “It can’t be easy, seeing someone who looks exactly like your subject, dead on an autopsy table.”

 

“It’s not,” Evan says, because what else is there to say.

 

“Tea?”

 

“Please.”

 

“It was cruel to make you see that,” she says quietly, pulling out a cup and a container of teabags. “Do you take milk or sugar?”

 

“Sugar, please.” Evan clears his throat. “Um, thank you. For getting me out of there.”

 

“I recognized that look,” she says, her expression sad. “I had to… my subject died, and I was there for the autopsy, and…” she takes in a shaky breath and continues. “They expect us to be professional, not to get attached, but the very nature of the job means that… you can’t just not engage. You can’t just… not care, you know?”

 

“I know.”

 

She hands him a cup of tea, then gestures for him to follow her around the corner into an office. It’s small, but nice, with a rug and an armchair as well as a desk with a seat on either side. She sits at the desk. “Pull up a chair,” she says. “I’m going to start printing stuff off for you.”

 

Evan’s drawn to a framed photo on the woman’s desk. It’s her and another man who looks just like Connor and Reed and Douglas’s body. They’re smiling, nose to nose, and Evan’s willing to be that they’d kissed the minute the photo was taken. Her hair is longer and darker, falling down her back in loose curls, and the clone - because he has to start thinking of them as clones, not just copies of Connor, otherwise he’s going to go crazy - has short cropped hair and a look of adoration on his face.

 

“His name was Noah,” says the woman quietly. “He is… was Australian. I have dual citizenship because my dad’s Australian, and it was cheaper to do my degree in Australia, so I went over and studied genetics in Sydney. DYAD have an office there, they recruited me and I met Noah.” She looks at Evan, her expression sad. “I’m Kylie, by the way.”

 

“Evan,” he replies. “But I think you already knew that.”

 

“This job is hard,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “Noah was… he was one of the first to show symptoms. I met him when he was 19 and I was 22 and… I didn’t actually expect to fall in love with him. But I did, and…” Kylie sniffs and looks away, and Evan’s heart hurts. He pulls a packet of Kleenex from his bag and hands it to her. She takes it gratefully.

 

“You’re working toward saving them all,” Evan says, trying to keep his tone low and comforting. “We all are. We’re going to save them all, Kylie.” He kind of laughs. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I specialize is plant biology.” He laughs again. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

 

“You’re here because DYAD want people who give a damn,” Kylie says firmly. “They may not act like they do, but… they do. They can see you care about your subject and you’ve got a good mind and maybe…” She trails off again and looks at the photo on her desk. “Right. Okay. As Noah would say, we’re not here to fuck spiders. Let’s get you these reports.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“Australians are really fucking weird,” Kylie says with a roll of her eyes, her tone fond. “I miss the cheeky bastard.”

 

The rest of the day goes by in a whirl of reports and documents and discussions about the clone illness. Almost all of it is going over Evan’s head, and he kind of feels like a complete idiot, but Kylie sticks by his side and is patient and helps explain things if he’s really lost. They bring in catering for lunch, then it’s back into it, and it’s nearly 5pm when Dr. Dubois announces they’re calling it a day but will be back tomorrow at the same time.

 

Just as he’s getting back to the hotel, his phone rings. It’s Zoe.

 

“Hey!” says Zoe, her voice full of enthusiasm. “You still in Burlington?”

 

“I am,” Evan confirms, feeling the stress of the day fade a little at the sound of his friend’s voice. It hits him how much he’s missed her. “I’ve actually just finished work for the day, we could meet for a meal if you’re free?”

 

“I’m totally free,” she replies, her voice warm, “and miraculously, so is Hannah. Text me the address of your hotel and we’ll pick you up in like an hour, okay?”

 

“That sounds perfect.” The call ends, he texts her an address and takes the opportunity to shower and change because he feels like he smells like death. He probably doesn’t, but he wants to wash off even the idea of the dead body with Zoe’s brother’s face.

 

He’s outside the hotel just in time for a Honda Civic to pull up. Zoe jumps out of the passenger side before the car’s even got to a full stop and grabs him in an enthusiastic hug, kissing him on the cheek and practically jumping with excitement. “It’s so good to see you!” she says into his ear.

 

Evan holds on tight and just lets himself enjoy this. He’s missed her. He’s missed her so much. “You have no idea how good it is to see you,” he confesses.

 

They finally break apart and Zoe hops back in the passenger seat and Evan jumps in the back. From the driver’s seat, a cute girl with short hair and an adorable bowtie who Evan assumes must be Hannah extends her hand for Evan to shake. “It’s really nice to meet you,” says Hannah. She’s got a firm handshake and a shy smile and Evan likes her already.

 

“It’s great to meet you, too,” Evan says warmly. “Zoe’s told me so much about you.”

 

“All good things, I hope?” Hannah says, with a small smile.

 

“All great things,” Evan assures her.

 

“We’re getting Thai,” Zoe announces. “Just like old times.”

 

“Didn’t you tell me you were having Thai like 2 nights ago?” Evan asks.

 

“I made that same argument,” Hannah tells him with a slight roll of her eyes. “But she insists that you have to try the Pad Thai. For science.”

 

“For science,” Zoe agrees, nodding and grinning.

 

The trip to the Thai place takes about 15 minutes. Zoe regales the story of how they met when Hannah moved into the dorms as Hannah drives and makes the occasional interjection. Evan watches their easy interaction and can’t help but smile. It’s adorable. They’re adorable.

 

At a stop light, Hannah says something that Evan doesn’t quite understand, but it seems to be an in-joke because Zoe cracks up laughing, and her whole face lights up, and Hannah looks at her like she hung the moon and the stars, and Evan’s heart is full.

 

Zoe deserves this.

 

More than almost anyone he knows.

 

When they get to the restaurant, Zoe makes sure to get them a table near the outside of the room, like she used to always do in high school because being in the middle of the room makes Evan nervous. Zoe catches Evan’s eye and he smiles.

 

He’s really missed her.

 

“So tell us about this job,” Zoe says once they’ve ordered (not that ordering took very long, considering that Zoe basically told Evan he had to have the Pad Thai, oh my god). “You must be doing well if they’ve dragged you out here for a business trip and put you up in that fancy hotel.”

 

“That’s a really fancy hotel,” Hannah agrees. “And I’ve done some research about DYAD. It’s a fantastic opportunity to be working with them. Some of the stuff they’re doing in bioengineering is completely revolutionary.”

 

“I completely agree,” Evan says honestly. “I can’t tell you a lot about it because there’s some… pretty intense confidentiality agreements, but… yeah, some of the stuff they’re doing is insane.”

 

“Can you give us a hint on what you’re working on?” Zoe asks with a playful grin. “Real life Spider-Man? Alien contact? Human cloning?” Evan nearly chokes on his water and starts coughing. Zoe hands him a napkin and tilts her head. “You okay, dude?”

 

“Went down the wrong way,” he lies. “Obviously I’m working on the aliens.”

 

“Unfair,” says Hannah with a small grin. “I want to work on the aliens.”

 

“How did you go about getting this internship anyway?” Zoe asks curiously. “Hannah’s a massive science nerd. You should hook her up with a fancy internship so she doesn’t have to keep delivering pizzas.”

 

“Babe, I thought you liked the way my car always smells faintly of meat.”

 

“I’m actually serious, though,” Zoe says to Hannah. “You’re so smart and if they’re gonna hire Evan then they’re clearly interested in what college students are doing. You should send in your CV. Get Evan here to put in a good word for you.”

 

Evan doesn’t quite know what to say. On one hand, he doesn’t want to offend Hannah, but on the other hand…

 

Zoe can’t be anywhere near DYAD.

 

She just can’t.

 

“I can put in a good word for you, sure,” Evan lies. “I don’t know how many internships are available, though. I think I just got lucky.”

 

“Speaking of getting lucky,” Zoe says with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle as their food finally arrives. “Anyone special in your life?”

 

Evan picks up his chopsticks. “Nope,” he says, hoping that the fact that he’s definitely blushing isn’t too obvious. From the look that Zoe and Hannah exchange, they’re not buying it. “Okay, so there’s someone I like.”

 

“Tell me more, tell me more,” Zoe sings, “was it love at first sight?”

 

Hannah groans. “When you’re a kid, you never notice just how rapey Summer Nights is.”

 

“It’s complicated,” Evan says, picking up some noodles. “He’s in New York, so it’d be long distance, and… there’s a lot, it’s hard to explain why it’s a terrible idea.”

 

“Most things are,” Zoe says through a mouthful of noodles. “But you deserve someone who can make you happy. Do you think he can make you happy?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan says, despite himself. “Yeah, I think he could.”

 

The evening passes in a blur of conversation and food and it’s nice. It’s normal. It almost makes the image of a dead body that looks just like Connor being sliced open.

 

Almost.

 

Zoe and Hannah are keen to take him out for ice cream, but Evan apologetically insists he should go back to the hotel for an early night. They drive him home, and Zoe gives him a hug as he leaves, Zoe making him promise to call again to confirm plans for the actual day of Thanksgiving if he doesn’t have to work.

 

He gets back to the hotel room and plugs in his clone phone.

 

Group chat: **torpeedo** , **soccer_guy** , **pinkpunk** , **emochilds** , **treeeees**

 

 **treeees:** free to Skype now if you are

 **pinkpunk** : con and i are free

 **torpeedo** : yeh I can talk

 **torpeedo** : lucas?

 **soccer_guy** : sure

 

Evan opens Skype on his clone phone and starts a call. Pretty soon, he’s got tiny versions of the same face in boxes in front of him. He smiles weakly.

 

“Hey guys,” he says as clearly as he can. “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill, kids. Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	27. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Guy's last week in America.

Torpedo reckons it’ll take the week to finish decrypting the data on the drive and as far as Connor’s concerned, the week cannot be finished fast enough.

 

Because it’s a shitty, shitty week.

 

School is tense. Connor still can’t believe that Guy’s managed to cause so much chaos in a single weekend, but all around him, people are murmuring about Ben flirting with Janelle at the party just half an hour after fucking Pippa in one of the guest bedrooms. Connor’s never been the source of these kinds of rumors before but he’s used to people talking about him behind his back, so he carries on and tries to keep calm like Ben Childs would, rather than fly off the handle in typical Connor Murphy fashion.

 

Peter avoids him in history class, which Connor doesn’t really care about but notices because the guy is pale as fuck and goes bright red every time they so much as pass in the hall. Good luck to him trying to keep closeted, Connor thinks sympathetically.

 

Connor never officially came out. There were rumors in middle school that he was gay, which was true, but they were soon superseded by rumors that Connor murdered someone, which was not true, so, all in all, there was enough shit being said about him that the whole ‘out and proud’ thing never really applied. Still, he never really felt… closeted. He was just him, and he was who he was, and if anyone had bothered to take the time to get to know him, he probably wouldn’t have had a problem with telling them. It’s just that… no one did.

 

He doesn’t want to out this kid, because it’s an exceptionally shitty thing to do, but he feels like trying to talk to him to smooth things over is going to cause more problems than it would solve. At least, for now.

 

Connor manages to talk his chemistry teacher into letting him work alone, convincing her that with his heavy course load, scheduling time to work with Janelle was proving difficult. This actually works out well for the teacher, as another student had transferred into the AP Chemistry class, so Janelle is paired with her and Connor is left to his own devices. Janelle still occasionally sends Connor longing looks over the Bunsen burners which Connor ignores.

 

And then there’s Pippa. Pippa is everywhere. She’s waiting for him outside every class, she’s holding his hand, they’re kissing in front of lockers and she’s constantly whispering in his ear. Dealing with her attention so firmly focused on him is exhausting, and not for the first time Connor considers punching Guy in the face for causing this whole shitstorm.

 

But he goes along with it. Because it’s what he has to do.

 

Because it’s the price to pay for being Ben Childs.

 

Pippa’s so clingy that he barely gets any time to see Jerome, which disappoints Connor more than he wants to admit. Jerome is… nice, much nicer than the drug dealers Connor dealt with back at his old school, and he’s good in bed (not that Connor has much to compare it to) and he actually seems to give a fuck about Ben Childs, which is more than most people in Ben’s life can say.

 

Thanksgiving is approaching fast and he still hasn’t heard from Ben’s parents at all.

 

Guy, ever the crafty one, has figured out that if he goes to the parking building under the apartment, he can sneak out into the city without having to deal with Seamus the doorman, so he’s been running around the city, doing all the touristy bullshit Connor’s never really had much interest in. In the middle of the week, he disappears for a full 24 hours and comes back, reeking of alcohol and sweat and general filth, then passes out for another 24 hours.

 

Honestly, it’s the most damn peace and quiet Connor’s had since this asshole arrived and he’s not complaining.

 

Torpedo is keeping him up to date on his progress, which Connor appreciates, and on Friday he messages Connor to let him know it’s available. He offers to come to the city and drop it off. Connor would rather just go to him - there’s something simple and peaceful about spending time in Torpedo’s basement room - but he’s not about to leave Guy unsupervised for another weekend.

 

On Saturday morning, Connor drags Guy’s ass out of bed and to a diner on the outskirts of Manhattan, where they meet Torpedo. Guy is hungover and cranky, Torpedo is awkward and out of his comfort zone, and Connor just wants to get this French asshole on a fucking plane.

 

The waitress looks at them with a bored expression. Connor appreciates that this lady doesn’t seem to give a fuck they all look identical, she just wants to know what they want to eat.

 

Torpedo orders pancakes, Connor orders waffles and Guy orders black coffee and a bagel, muttering about how hungover he is and how American food is terrible and greasy. Connor resists the urge to give him shit about his pizza consumption.

 

“So it’s all ready to go,” says Torpedo, handing Guy the drive. “All the information is decrypted. I haven’t started going through it but I will. If I could keep in touch with whoever’s dealing with it on the European side… we’ll learn a lot more if we work together.”

 

“Eric did not think it would be safe,” says Guy, putting the data drive in his bag and staring at his bagel like it was personally responsible for his hangover. “But I will ask.”

 

“That’s cool,” Torpedo says, a little hesitant, and goes back to his pancakes. Connor shoots him an encouraging smile across the table and he seems to relax a bit. “So you’re going home tomorrow?” he asks Guy.

 

Guy nods. “I booked a flight for as soon as I could. I leave at 5 am.” He kind of sniffs. “I will be glad to return to France, though I will have to stop in London first to see Beanpole.”

 

Torpedo raises his eyebrows. “Your UK contact’s name is Beanpole?”

 

“Obviously it is not his real name,” Guy snaps. “He explains. It is nickname. We are tall.”

 

“I guess,” Torpedo mutters, sheepishly going back to his pancakes. Connor stabs his waffles and imagines they’re Guy’s head because fuck this guy for making Torpedo feel bad. Again. “Well, hopefully, your flight isn’t too bad,” Torpedo says, still clearly trying to connect.

 

Guy rolls his eyes. “Flying is not so bad. I take it you have never traveled.”

 

Torpedo goes bright red. Connor’s had it. “Okay, you pompous French fuck, how about you lay off Torpedo and eat your fucking bagel,” Connor snaps.

 

Guy just stares at him then quirks the corner of his mouth into a half smile. “There’s the fire I remember. You are a passionate man, Ben Childs.”

 

Torpedo shoots him a weird look and goddammit Connor is not telling Torpedo that he fucked Guy, not in any universe.

 

“Fuck you,” he replies instead, finishing the last of his waffles. “We should get going. I’m sure Torpedo has better things to do on a Saturday than put up with your crap.”

 

“Actually I’m pretty free…” Torpedo trails off as it becomes obvious that Connor’s kind of shaking his head. “I have better things to do on a Saturday, I mean. Definitely.”

 

Guy rolls his eyes, finishes his coffee and stands up. “Alright,” he says. “We go. We must celebrate before I leave New York.”

 

“Not a fucking chance I’m letting you loose again,” Connor says firmly. “We’re going back to the apartment, I’ll order you some pizza and you can watch Netflix and not cause a fucking international incident.”

 

Guy pouts and Torpedo’s eyes kind of widen a bit. Guy rolls his eyes again and heads to the bathroom. Torpedo looks at Connor sympathetically.

 

“So I’m guessing you’ll be glad to see him go?”

 

“You have no fucking idea, dude,” Connor says with a long sigh. “It’s been… god, I never should have let him go to that party, he fucked everything up and I’ve spent all week trying to run damage control, Jesus fuck.”

 

“He does seem a little… inconsiderate,” Torpedo confesses.

 

“He’s a fucking French asshole.”

 

Guy comes back and looks at Connor. “We go, yes?”

 

“Yeah,” says Connor with a sigh. He turns to Torpedo. “I’ll see you later, man.”

 

Torpedo kind of slaps him on the back in a way that makes Connor think he’d rather be giving him a hug but is trying to stay cool. Connor pulls him into a quick hug anyway as Guy looks on disdain.

 

“Travel safe,” Torpedo says.

 

Guy sniffs. “It is not up to me. I am not flying the plane.”

 

“Fine,” Connor mutters. “Fucking crash then for all I care.”

 

When they get back to the apartment, he starts working on his chemistry assignment, which is now double the work thanks to no longer having a lab partner. Guy orders a pizza and watches Netflix with French dubbing and Connor wants to lock himself in his room to get away from the fucking noise but he’s legitimately convinced Guy will just run off if he doesn’t, so he sticks at the kitchen table, shooting annoyed glares at his clone every once in a while. Guy happily eats an entire pizza and yells at the TV screen in French.

 

Midnight rolls around and Connor stands up. “I’m taking you to the airport,” he announces. “Pack up your shit.”

 

“My flight is not until five,” Guy points out.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s an international flight, and I don’t want to be up at five in the damn morning,” Connor snaps. “And I don’t trust you in a cab. I actually want to see you get to the damn airport so I never have to put up with your annoying ass again.”

 

Guy smirks. “Just last week you were enjoying my ass.”

 

“Fuck. You.”

 

As Guy packs, Connor takes a shower, then makes some coffee so he’s alert for the drive. He’ll sort out the mess Guy’s made of the apartment tomorrow, he tells himself - he’d kind of given up trying to keep things tidy because Guy just came in and trashed it right after he’d cleaned.

 

Guy’s packed and dressed and ready to go around, and they head down to the parking building. There’s no one else in sight, but Connor has this sneaking suspicion they’re not alone.

 

“I will be glad to be back in France,” says Guy conversationally. “America is-”

 

Connor never finds out what the end of that sentence would have been because Guy collapses to the ground. It takes a moment for Connor to realize there’s a bullet hole between his eyes.

 

He manages to hide behind a car before another bullet comes flying at him. There’s a roar of a motorcycle, and a figure in a dark green hooded jacket approaches, brandishing a knife.

 

Connor runs.

 

This guy’s faster than he is, though, and tackles him to the ground, holding the knife over him. Connor’s overwhelmed with the smell of blood and filth and something rotten. “Goodbye, Ben Childs,” says the hooded figure, in a thick accent that Connor thinks might be Russian as he raises the knife.

 

He does the only thing he can think of.

 

“I’m not Ben,” he blurts out. “I’m not fucking Ben, okay?”

 

The figure stops. Then pulls back his hood.

 

And once again, Connor is looking at himself.

 

A version of himself that’s the roughest he’s ever seen. This clone is pale, with long matted hair. His eyes are still the same two-toned color as the rest of the clones, but they’re bloodshot and his eyelids are almost red. He looks bad. He looks really, really bad. Everything about him is sharp and pinched, like he hasn’t eaten in months, and he’s wearing layers upon layers upon layers of clothes, like he could never get warm enough, no matter what he does.

 

And he’s holding a goddamn knife. He looks at Connor with an expression of wonder.

 

“No, you are not Ben Childs,” he says finally. “You are something new. Something different.” He leans in to _smell_ Connor, and what the actual fuck. “But it is no matter. I am here to kill abominations. You spit on God’s design.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor says desperately. “You’re just like us. You’re just like me. Why are you killing us?”

 

“You are copies,” the clone practically spits. “Poor reflections, an offense to God. I am the original.”

 

“Pretty sure you can’t back that up,” Connor says. “But we could find out. I’m sure we could find out. Do you want to know more about us? I know others. We could… we could talk to you. Explain things. You don’t… you don’t need to kill me. You don’t need to kill anyone.”

 

“You lie!” This time, the clone does spit in his face. It’s disgusting. “You try to lead me into temptation, but I am pure. I follow God’s path.” He raises his knife. “I do not know who you are, but you have the face of the abomination, and you must die.”

 

Then the clone jolts, and Connor’s eyes widen when he sees that there’s blood blossoming on the green jacket. He didn’t even hear a gun go off. Before the clone can react, Connor climbs to his feet and holds up his hands in surrender.

 

“Easy kid,” comes a familiar Irish accent. “I’ve got your back.”

 

Seamus the doorman lowers his weapon, just as the injured clone jumps on his motorcycle and leaves the parking building.

 

Connor’s shaking. Badly. Seamus comes toward him, puts his weapon in a holster and supports Connor just before his legs give way.

 

“Holy shit,” Connor manages to gasp. “Holy shit.”

 

“I got you,” says Seamus. “I got you.”

 

“You…” Connor doesn’t know what to say. “You know?”

 

Seamus nods. “I know. I think we have a lot to discuss.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/ :)


	28. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan tells the clones about his discoveries at DYAD.

Hanging out with Reed is good. It’s a little weird hanging out in Connor’s apartment (well, Ben’s apartment) rather than Reed’s, but good nonetheless. They mostly just eat takeout and watch Netflix, which is fine by Connor, because he doesn’t think he has the energy to actually leave the house.

 

Pretty much every fiber of his being is focused on Evan’s DYAD trip.

 

Every interaction Connor and the rest of his brothers have had with DYAD so far have been… less than ideal. They still don’t have a huge amount of information about the shady organization that created them, but they know they’re being monitored and they know that DYAD has nearly unlimited resources. Back in high school, Torpedo decrypted data stolen from DYAD by a British clone, and while Connor’s still not 100% sure of everything Torpedo found, he’d definitely confirmed that DYAD was pretty much everywhere.

 

They had shares in huge amounts of corporations, all over the world. Connections and deals and plenty of other things - they’re powerful, they’re at the cutting edge of science and technology and they’re not above making a nosy college student disappear if he finds out something they don’t want him to know.

 

There’s a part of Connor that is terrified that he’s never going to see Evan again.

 

To Reed’s credit, they don’t tell Connor to calm down, or stop messaging Evan, or any of that. They just make hot chocolate and order Chinese and spend time with him, not saying a whole lot but just… being there.

 

It’s nice. It’s comforting. It helps him from falling into an endless loop of worry, which sends his brain into dark places he doesn’t want to go.

 

He remembers crying on Evan’s shoulder, listening to his sister’s voice and how the ache in his chest that’s always been there, the ache of missing his family, kind of quietened for the first time in years because he felt safe with Evan.

 

He feels safe with Evan.

 

He doesn’t think he’s felt safe with anyone outside of Reed and Torpedo (and Lucas, but he’d only admit that at gunpoint) for years, with some minor exceptions. Connor knows he can’t trust everyone with his face, and he knows that DYAD’s influence is so all-encompassing that literally anyone in his life could be a plant, sent to report back on him and experiment on him while he’s sleeping.

 

But Connor feels safe with Evan, and that makes the crush he’ll admit to having on him even worse, because it’s not just that he thinks Evan’s got nice eyes and a nice butt, it’s not just that he appreciates his new-found confidence - it’s so much more than that and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

The messages coming from Evan assure Connor he’s fine, but they’re not particularly detailed, and there is definitely something Evan’s not telling him, so he can’t help but worry. Can’t help but check in constantly.

 

He’s just had a shower and is back in the living room when he hears his clone phone beep from the other room. Reed has theirs in their pocket and checks it before Connor can move.

 

“It’s Evan,” Reed says, taking their laptop from its spot on the couch next to them and opening it. “He’s keen to Skype, I’ve said we’re free.”

 

Connor goes to sit next to him almost immediately, and pretty soon they’re on a conference Skype call with Evan, Torpedo and Lucas.

 

“Hey guys,” says Evan. He looks tired. Very, very tired.  “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

 

“Everything okay?” says Reed before Connor can get a word in.

 

“It’s not an immediate danger,” Evan says, his voice heavy. “But it’s… it’s not great, guys.” He takes in a deep breath. “First of all, DYAD told me about the clones. I’m pretty sure they don’t suspect that I actually knew beforehand, but… they told me. They brought over this British clone, his name’s Dominic and he was basically raised by DYAD. Completely self-aware. He’s always known he’s a clone and he’s… well, he’s pretty intense.”

 

“A self-aware clone?” Reed says with surprise. “That’s fascinating. But from a scientific standpoint, it makes sense.”

 

“It does,” Evan agrees. “But the reason he’s in the States is… a bit more concerning.” Evan looks down, and when he looks back up, Connor can see that his eyes are dangerously watery and his heart kind of breaks. “There’s a genetic anomaly in the clone DNA and it causes an illness.” Evan swallows. “A fatal illness. I’m so sorry, I… you’re all susceptible, but we’re trying to find a cure, I swear. They’re pulling out all the stops to cure this, I promise, but it’s… I looked in on an autopsy for a dead clone today and I… you needed to know this and I hate that I have to tell you and I’m… I’m so sorry.”

 

Evan’s words are coming out in a rush and Connor feels his stomach sink.

 

He and his clones could die.

 

It’s not fair.

 

It’s not fucking fair, not when he’s _finally_ decided, once and for all, that he’s going to cling to life with everything he’s got.

 

It’s not fair.

 

Lucas is the first one to speak. “Fuck,” he says, slowly and with feeling. “Fucking hell.” He rubs his face. “And there’s nothing we can do to prevent it? It’s going to happen to all of us?”

 

“That’s what they say,” Evan says sadly. “They’re committed to finding a treatment, they really are - they don’t want to lose any more clones.”

 

“You can’t do an experiment without subjects,” says Reed, their voice the closest to bitter that Connor’s ever heard. “Guess it makes sense.”

 

“What are the symptoms?” Torpedo asks. He’s pale, Connor notices, too pale and for a horrible, heart-stopping moment, his mind jumps to an awful conclusion.

 

Is Torpedo sick?

 

Evan seems to have noticed Torpedo’s paleness as well, and he goes slightly pale himself. “This illness affects the brain,” he explains slowly. “They think it’s a bit like epilepsy. It starts with chronic headaches and blackouts, and other symptoms include seizures and memory loss.” Evan gulps. “It’s also apparently very, very painful, and eventually the… the subject falls into a coma and… passes on.” He’s shaking a little now, Connor notices - not enough for it to be super noticeable to the others, but Connor’s always paid attention to Evan. “The clone who died - Douglas Acker, his name was - he was still alive yesterday, but in a coma, and he died overnight. I saw them do the autopsy and… well, I didn’t see all of it, because I…” Evan looks away from the camera. “It’s hard.”

 

“Are you having headaches, Torpedo?” Reed asks, their voice sharp. “No offense dude, but you don’t look great.”

 

“I’m fine,” says Torpedo, somewhat defensively. “None of those symptoms. I just haven’t had much sun recently.” He grins feebly. “Been spending too much time in my cave.”

 

“Maybe we could all hang out sometime this week,” Connor suggests. “We’re in New York, you’re still in New Jersey - it’d be like old times.”

 

Torpedo grins for a moment, then his expression shifts to apologetic. “I’m swamped with work, dude,” he says with a frown. “But I would have loved to. We should catch up soon, yeah?”

 

“No offense guys,” says Lucas, frowning, “but this isn’t exactly a social call.” He’s clenching his jaw and looks very, very worried. “Evan. Is there anything else you can tell us about this… illness?”

 

Evan’s biting his lip so hard Connor’s afraid it’s going to start bleeding. “It doesn’t seem to be particularly consistent,” Evan confesses, “in terms of who gets it and when. There was a clone in Australia who died a year ago, and apparently, another one who died when he was just 16. So we don’t know how long it’ll take for individual subjects to start showing symptoms, but… it does seem like it’s a genetic anomaly and that it’ll affect all of you.”

 

“If it’s genetic, that makes sense,” says Reed quietly.

 

“Oh,” Evan says, as if remembering something. “Reed. They want me to float the idea of you taking an internship with them. They think you can help with your background in genetics.”

 

Connor looks at Reed, who looks a little stunned. “Wait, what?”

  
Evan nods. “I think… I think they’re desperate. They want to explore all their options, even the ones that sound insane.” He laughs hollowly. “Like asking an environmental biologist to work on curing a human genetic illness.”

 

“You’re working on the cure?” Torpedo asks with interest. “Do you have information on what they’ve done so far?”

 

“I do,” Evan confirms.

 

“Can I have it?” Torpedo asks.

 

Evan shrugs. “Sure, why not? It might not make a ton of sense to someone without a genetics background, but… I guess.”

 

Torpedo shrugs. “I know I can’t help,” he says apologetically, “but I’m kind of collecting… everything about us. Like, one big central depository of information.” He grins a little. “I’m the information guy.”

 

“You’re the geek monkey,” says Reed with a grin.

 

“I’m the geek money.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Evan says in a rush. “I’m just… I’m so, so, so sorry and I want you guys to know that I’m going to do everything I can to find a cure for this illness. I know I’m not… I’m pretty useless, I don’t have any kind of background in genetics, but there are people who are passionate about finding a cure in DYAD. I know you don’t trust DYAD but I swear to you, there are good people in there and they want to help you. They want to save you. I want to save you.”

 

“None of this is your fault,” Connor says firmly. “It’s not, Evan. You know that. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t know about this.”

 

“I’m taking a genetics class in the new semester,” Evan says firmly. “I’m getting all the information I can, I’m… I’m serious about this. I’m… I can’t...” He trails off, then kind of smiles sadly. “One of the scientists at DYAD, she said that DYAD wants people who give a damn. And I just want you to know that I do. Give a damn, that is.”

 

“I know you do,” Connor replies softly. “We know you do.”

 

“We appreciate it,” says Reed, equally softly. “We’ve put you in a difficult situation, we know it’s risky and… we’re glad you’re on our side.”

 

“Of course I’m on your side,” Evan nearly whispers. He runs his hand through his hair. “Guys, I’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I need to go to bed soon. I’ll see you later?”

 

“Sure,” says Lucas, his tone solemn. “Reed, Connor, Torpedo - do you mind if we stay on the call for a bit longer?”

 

“That’s fine,” says Reed, and Torpedo nods. Evan smiles weakly and disconnects from the call.

 

“I don’t mean to be an asshole,” Lucas says after a minute. “But can we trust him? Honestly?”

 

“Yes,” Reed and Connor say immediately.

 

“I want to,” Torpedo says with a frown. “I really want to. I think… I think we can trust Evan, but I’m still not sure we can trust DYAD.”

 

“If Evan sends you everything he’s been given by DYAD,” Connor says, trying to keep his voice level despite the rising anger in his chest, “that’s… that’s fucking huge, that’s the kind of thing that could get him killed if they find out. In fact, just talking to us could… it’s a huge risk, why would he take this risk if he wasn’t on our side?”

 

“Unless DYAD already knows and they’re letting him do it,” Lucas counters. “Maybe by trusting Evan, we’re giving DYAD more information.” He laughs a little. “Hell, he’s in a hotel room that DYAD paid for, right? How do we know they’re not listening in?”

 

Connor’s blood runs cold.

 

“We don’t,” says Torpedo, looking tired. “We don’t know. And he doesn’t know, either. I want to believe that he’s genuine, but when it comes down to it, DYAD could be playing him, too.”

 

“If DYAD is playing him, then that’s not his fault,” Connor snaps. “I don’t think it’s fair to dismiss everything he’s done for us.”

 

“I’m not dismissing anything-”

 

“He’s risking a lot,” Connor interrupts. “He is. And he doesn’t have to. No one’s forcing him to do this, no one’s making him report back. He didn’t have to tell us any of this, he could have just told us his trip was just a formality and had nothing to do with us. It’s not fair to act like he’s actively fucking us over.”

 

“I never said he’s actively fucking us over,” Lucas shoots back. “Just because you’re in love with him.”

 

Connor blinks. “What?”

 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You heard me. The whole reason he even knows about cloning is because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut because you’re stupidly in love with him?”

 

“Who said I was in love with him?” Connor practically yells.

 

Reed and Torpedo both give him sympathetic looks.

 

“I know love when I see it,” says Lucas, his tone slightly less confrontational.

 

“Whatever,” Connor says, resolving that this is something he’s not going to think about. “The point is that when DYAD approached him about monitoring Reed, he didn’t just do it - he came to Reed and told them. From day one, he’s been in our corner. You have to see that. You have to.”

 

“I agreed,” says Reed firmly. “He’s in our corner.” They sigh. “But we can’t discount the possibility that DYAD isn’t just telling him what they want us to hear. We need to take things with a grain of salt when it comes to information Evan’s passing on.”

 

“We have to be careful,” Torpedo agrees.

 

Connor folds his arms. “So what, you don’t think this clone illness exists? He looked in on a fucking autopsy, for fuck’s sake!”

 

“I think the clone illness exists,” Torpedo says firmly. “But I don’t know if I believe that DYAD doesn’t already have a cure.”

 

Reed frowns. “You think they know how to cure this?”

 

“I think it’s a possibility.”

 

Lucas sighs. “Shit.”

 

Torpedo’s expression is pinched. There are bags under his eyes and even though he’s insisting he’s okay, Connor can’t shake the feeling that there’s something wrong. “I just think we need to be careful,” says Torpedo, his tone steady. “As always. Nothing’s ever black and white around here.”

 

That, Connor thinks, is the truest thing he’s heard all week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com !


	29. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus tells his tale.

Connor doesn’t know how he gets back to his apartment. He has flashes of the elevator, of a calm voice, talking to him soothingly in a lilting Irish accent, of his hands shaking as he tried to unlock the front door then the keys being taken off him, but nothing’s making complete sense to him and it’s only when he feels the telltale sting of whiskey on his tongue that he realizes that he’s sitting on his sofa, drinking something hot that’s alcoholic for some reason. 

 

He’s pretty sure Guy must have drunk everything in the apartment by now, so… that’s weird. 

 

Guy. 

 

Oh shit.

 

“The body,” he says, words spilling out like vomit. “The body is there and someone will-”

 

“It’s being taken care of,” says the voice in that soothing Irish accent. “Drink your tea.”

 

“There’s whiskey in this.”

 

“Figured you could use it after the night you’ve had.” 

 

Seamus the doorman is sitting next to him on the sofa of his apartment, his voice and face full of sympathy. 

 

Connor has no idea what the fuck is going. 

 

“You know about all of this,” he says hesitantly. “How do you know?”

 

Seamus chuckles. “I’ve known for longer than you’ve been alive, kid,” he says, his tone slightly amused. “I found out that The DYAD Institute had perfected human cloning in late 1999.” He looks at Connor. “And I know you’re one of those clones.”

 

Connor stares. He’s tired and he’s drained and he has absolutely no idea what to say, what to do. Is he supposed to deny it? Is he supposed to make some kind of dumb joke? He has no idea. 

 

“How did you find out?” he asks instead.

 

Seamus looks at him. “Back in 1999, I wasn’t a doorman in New York. I was living in Dublin and… well, for want of a better word, I helped people disappear. I worked for an organization that got people in bad situations out, situations where the police couldn’t help them. We were underground. Paranoid to a fault. But most of the time, our work was pretty straightforward.” Seamus chuckles. “Most of the time. Then all of a sudden, there’s this woman, seven months pregnant and convinced that her babies weren’t safe.”

 

Connor sips his tea and nods for Seamus to continue as his mind races, trying to take this all in. 

 

“She told us that the DYAD Institute had offered her a lot of money to be a surrogate and that after the embryo was implanted, it split into two. She was carrying twins. They upped the testing, and she started to realize that what they were testing for… wasn’t normal. So she made a plan to leave and found us.” He smiles faintly. “Found me. I was younger back then, obviously, and she was… well, she was beautiful and I wasn’t bad to look at myself, and like a pair of idiots, we fell in love.”

 

Seamus’s whole face kind of softens at that, and Connor feels this weird twinge in his stomach at his words. He’s not the kind of person to come straight out and say he doesn’t believe in love, but… well… it seems a little unrealistic, and more than a little dangerous to make yourself vulnerable like that. 

 

He wonders, briefly, if Ben loved Jerome. 

 

It’s not something he should be thinking about. 

 

“How did you find out the babies were… clones?” Connor asks hesitantly, wanting to know the rest of the story.  

 

“Anthea and I went into hiding together,” Seamus says. “I was there when the twins were born. Two beautiful boys, born February 15 in the year 2000.”

 

Connor absently notes that February 15th is his birthday. He wonders when Ben’s birthday is. It’s probably near his, seeing as they’re genetically identical, and he should figure it out before the New Year. Just in case Pippa wants to make a fuss of Ben turning 18. 

 

“While we were in hiding,” Seamus continues, “we were cut off from the world, but the organization kept digging. The cloning project was code-named Phanes, and most of the babies were implanted through IVF treatment. Most of those women had no idea the babies they were carrying weren’t biologically theirs, and if they suspected… well, DYAD were good at picking women who were desperate for a child.”

 

“But Anthea knew she was carrying babies that weren’t hers,” Connor confirms, a little confused. “That’s what you said, right?”

 

“That’s right,” Seamus agrees. “Some of the Phanes babies were carried to term by surrogates. Women who were down on their luck and needed the money. The Phanes babies would go up for adoption but would be carefully monitored throughout their lives.” Seamus sighs. “Anthea didn’t want to give her babies up. She wanted us to make a real go of it, you know? And I… well, I was young, and in love, and really fucking stupidly, I thought I could keep us safe from DYAD.”

 

“But DYAD tracked you down,” Connor guesses slowly, not really wanting to be right.

 

Seamus nods. “DYAD tracked us down. It happened when we didn’t expect it, and we each took a baby and ran. We’d made plans to meet at a rendezvous point in case of emergencies. I waited there for three weeks with August, waiting for Anthea and Dorian, but… eventually I just had to accept that they weren’t coming. That DYAD had caught up with them.”

 

“Did you ever find out what happened?” Connor asks. 

 

“DYAD took Dorian and killed Anthea,” Seamus says quietly. “I didn’t find out for years, but we eventually confirmed that Dorian was alive, and was with a new family. I don’t know any more than that. He probably doesn’t even have the same name anymore. I don’t even know if he’s still in Ireland.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says quietly. He is. He gets the feeling that if Seamus had had the chance to stay with Anthea, Dorian and August, he’d have been a pretty decent father. “What happened to August?”

 

“After what happened, I didn’t trust myself to keep him safe,” Seamus says sadly. “I had contacts in Ukraine of all places, in a monastery. The monks said they would keep him safe and I believed them. Then years later, I found out about the Proletheans.”

 

Connor frowns. “Who are the Proletheans?” 

 

“They’re an offshoot of DYAD,” Seamus explains. “After I sent August away, I tried to find out everything I could about DYAD, about human cloning. In 2008, I discovered that a DYAD scientist who’d been part of the initial experiment had defected and come to some sort of religious epiphany and decided that human cloning went against God. That only God had the right to create life and that clones couldn’t have souls because they weren’t God’s children.”

 

“Fuck,” Connor says quietly. “That’s… the clone who killed Guy, he… he said we were abominations. Copies, an offense to God, poor reflections. He said that he followed God’s path. He’s a Prolethean.”

 

Seamus looks horribly sad, then takes a deep breath. “I tried to find August in 2008, but the monastery told me he was gone. They’d had visitors to the monastery, people who said that August was a special child, that he needed to fulfill his purpose.” The older man looks close to tears as he continues. “I don’t want to believe it, but I’m almost certain the clone we saw today, the clone I shot to save you, was my August.”

 

Connor feels his heart start to pound faster. “He sounded Russian,” Connor says faintly. “That’s close to Ukraine, right? Enough that I could get them mixed up?” Seamus nods. “And he said… he said he was the original. But if he’s really August, then that’s… he can’t be. He’s just another one of us.”

 

“That’s right,” says Seamus. “The original would have to be older than you, probably by a decent amount of time. We’ve never been able to uncover the original source of genetic material but we’ve tried.” He looks tired and old all of a sudden. “I guess I understand why they’d tell him he was the original.”

 

“Makes it easier to justify killing someone with your face,” Connor says quietly. “Shit. Shit.” 

 

His mind is swimming. He’s drowning in the tidal wave of information he’s just been given. Clones. DYAD. Proletheans. August, with his smell of death and filthy green coat, brandishing a knife and looking into his eyes with eyes that looked just like his own. 

 

Connor takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. He’s still shaking. He looks at Seamus. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“So you’ll trust me,” Seamus says simply. “Because you need to know. Because it’s your history.” Then his gaze hardens a little. “Because I’ve known Benjamin Childs for seven years and you sure as hell aren’t him.”

 

Connor nearly drops his mug. He closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them and looks at Seamus. He’s tired. He’s so fucking tired.

 

“My name is Connor.”

 

Seamus almost smiles. “Good Irish name.” The smile drops. “What happened to Ben, Connor?” 

 

“He killed himself,” Connor admits. “Right in front of me. In my hometown. He… he insisted we swap clothes and he told me… I told me I had to be him. And then he died in front of me and now I…” Connor sniffs a little, willing himself not to fucking cry because this nice Irish man is giving him more paternal affection than he’s ever had in his life. “I guess I’m doing a pretty fucking terrible job, huh?”

 

“It could have been worse,” Seamus points out. “It took me a while to catch on, but there were signs. Signs you’d only pick up if you knew Ben like I did.” He frowns. “Anthony and Janine Childs aren’t the kind of people who should have had kids. They’ve been leaving Ben alone since he was 13, it’s not fair. And even when they were there, they weren’t… there. I started working in this building seven years ago. Ben was a lonely kid. We… we talked a lot.” 

 

“What was he like?” Connor asks suddenly. At Seamus’s look, he goes bright red. “I’m sorry, forget I said anything, it was stupid-”

 

“He wanted to know everything,” Seamus says, his tone fond. “He used to sit with me at the door and ask me what I knew about everyone in the building. He wanted to know their stories - what they did for a living, what they cared about, where they were from. He just wanted to know. He’d ask so many questions.”

 

Connor nods. “I know he’s a student journalist, that makes sense.”

 

“He went through a stage when he was about 12 where he really liked magic tricks,” Seamus says with a slightly choked laugh. “He was so bad at them, though. He used to try and get me to guess his card and… he just couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t do it, he followed all the instructions. It got to the stage where I’d just tell him he’d got it right to see him smile.” Seamus’s expression falls and for a horrible moment, Connor’s afraid the man is going to cry. “Christ, I should have known he wasn’t doing so good. I should have stopped him.”

 

“From what I know of Ben,” Connor says carefully, “when he’s made up his mind about something, he’s made it up. There was nothing you could have done.”

 

Seamus smiles a little. “He was a stubborn kid, that’s for sure.” He looks at Connor sympathetically. “I’m sorry about your friend. The French one. Guy?”

 

“We weren’t really friends,” Connor admits. “He was just here for… information.”

 

Seamus nods. “How many clones have you met?”

 

Connor still doesn’t know if he can trust this guy. He sighs. “A few? I don’t know how many of us are out there.”

 

“We could never pin down the exact amount either,” Seamus confesses. He sighs. “Look, we want to help you. You and your clones. But I understand your hesitation to trust me. Discuss it with the others and let me know. In the meantime… if I’m ever on duty and another one of your clones needs to come into the building, you don’t need to do the distraction game anymore.” Seamus smirks. “You’re pretty bad at it, kid.”

 

“Thanks,” says Connor. He’s exhausted and he feels sick and he still doesn’t know if any of this is really happening. 

 

Then he sees there’s blood on his shirt and… well… it makes it more real. 

 

“Get some sleep,” Seamus tells him gently. “I’ve dropped a lot of information on you all at once, and you’re going to need some time to process it all. But I’m willing to help you. If you’ll let me. Just say the word.”

 

Seamus lets himself out and Connor manages to drag himself to his bedroom, where he collapses on the bed and almost immediately passes out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	30. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan returns from Vermont.

Evan can’t wait to go home. Back to his apartment and his plants and classes with Reed and weekends with Connor, eating donuts from New York, drinking tea and watching Netflix. Back to his regular normal life, when he didn’t know that his two closest friends had been issued a death sentence by their own genetics.

 

Then again, was a life where he was falling in love with his fake, not actually dead best friend from high school really normal?

 

Evan’s got no idea of what’s normal anymore.

 

All he knows is that he has to save them.

 

He has to save all of them.

 

The rest of the week at DYAD passes by in a blur of information. He’s basically getting a crash course on human genetics, and Kylie is very patient as she explains concepts that are probably completely basic to her, just so he can get his head around the pages and pages of research. When he gets back to his hotel room each night, he makes pages and pages of notes of his own, trying to take the complicated research and make it something he can understand. Make it something Torpedo can understand.

 

Evan’s never met Torpedo but he’s been impressed with what he’s achieved so far, and if Torpedo wants the information, Evan will do his best to give it to him. He just has to figure out a way to get it to him safely, without raising suspicion with DYAD. Now that he knows about the clones, he’s convinced they’ll be paying much more attention to what he’s up to.

 

He doesn’t want to think about it but he knows deep in his heart what he has to do when he gets back to his apartment.

 

He knows that it’s probably best he stop spending so much time with Connor.

 

The thought of not seeing Connor is… well, it’s gut-wrenching, to be honest, but if it keeps him in a position where he can keep helping the clones, keep helping them find a cure, then he’ll do it. And it’s not like Connor doesn’t have other friends - he has a whole life in New York, he has Reed, he has the other clones. He’s lasted for 3 years without Evan, it’s not like he’s going to miss him.

 

Avoiding Connor is the best thing for everyone.

 

The alternative is too risky.

 

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

 

DYAD make him work over Thanksgiving Day but he’s free in the evening, and Zoe and Hannah pick him up and take him back to Zoe’s dorm, where she’s cooked a Thanksgiving meal of chicken and canned cranberry sauce with instant mashed potatoes. Evan chokes his way through dry chicken and soggy mashed potatoes and smiles politely when Zoe asks if he’s enjoying it - at one point, he catches Hannah’s eye and she gives him a look that basically says ‘if you insult her cooking I will murder you and they’ll never find the body’.

 

Hannah may look sweet but Evan knows then that she’ll fight anyone who dare says a bad word against Zoe, and that’s so fucking cute he can barely stand it.

 

Hannah has, thankfully, procured some ridiculously sinful ice cream with chocolate and caramel and brownie chunks and once they've finished choking down the admittedly terrible Thanksgiving meal, they gorge themselves on ice cream over episodes of Parks and Recreation, and it reminds Evan of senior year where Zoe parked herself in his living room and binge-watched Netflix shows with family-sized packs of M&Ms.

 

His friendship was Zoe had materialized almost out of the blue. Nearly four months after Connor died, Zoe came up to him at school, told him she’d give him a ride home, then proceeded to park her car in his driveway, follow him into his house, sit on his sofa, eat candy and watch Netflix. He hadn’t really known what to do, so he sat next to her on the sofa and just… stayed quiet. Eventually it all came out - Mrs. Murphy was a mess after Connor’s death and had been doing progressively worse, until finally Mr. Murphy had talked to some of his ‘rich white people friends’ and found a grief retreat to send his wife on for the month. Zoe hadn’t wanted to be home alone, with her mom out of town and her dad working late nights.

 

And soon it became a routine. 

 

At first, Evan had been incredibly self-conscious and more than slightly weirded out that this beautiful girl he’d been crushing on for so long was constantly at his house, but it hadn’t taken long for them to develop an easy friendship, and for Evan to move on from his painful crush. Zoe was just Zoe - sad and scared and pissed off at her brother for causing their mother so much pain, and feeling alone and lost, and Evan knew what it was like to spend so much time at home alone. He welcomed her company. She welcomed his company.

 

They’ve been friends ever since.

 

Evan can’t help but feel horribly, horribly guilty that he knows Connor is alive and Zoe doesn’t.

 

But how could he tell her?

 

His last few days at DYAD pass in a whirlwind, and as he leaves to go back home, he’s given a fancy smartphone to use for all DYAD related correspondence.

 

He’s going to have to be very, very careful when it comes to his phones.

 

Kylie’s one of the main contacts in the DYAD phone, and he’s barely touched down at home when he’s got a message from her, telling him she hopes he got home alright and that they should schedule a Skype meeting to go over a possible breakthrough in the illness research as soon as he’s free.

 

Classes start back, and if DYAD was a whirlwind, this is a tornado. Evan barely has any time to himself - when he’s not in class, he’s either studying or working on DYAD research. When the weekend rolls around, he texts Reed and Connor to let them know he’s busy, and they seem to accept that and leave him to it.

 

He ignores all the messages on the clone phone from Connor. 

 

There are a lot of messages. 

 

The next week, Evan gives Reed a packet of information for Torpedo in class, disguised as terrestrial biology notes, entrusting that he’ll get what’s needed to his clone. Reed wants to go out for coffee after class, and Evan’s swamped with work but agrees.

 

At the end of the day, monitoring Reed has to be his top priority.

 

“How are you feeling?” Evan asks Reed over chai lattes at a small, nearly empty cafe near campus. “You’re not getting headaches or anything?”

 

“I’m fine,” Reed assures him. “Physically, at least.”

 

Evan frowns. “What’s wrong?”

 

“What’s wrong is that Connor’s freaking out you’re not answering his messages,” Reed says frankly. “He hasn’t seen you since you got back from Vermont and I’m pretty sure he’s got Evan withdrawal, and he’s taking it out on me.”

 

Evan looks at his chai latte, then back at Reed. “I can’t… things have gotten a lot more complicated since my trip, Reed, and I think that… I think that if we’re spending time together like we have been, people are going to notice. They’ll be keeping a closer eye on me now, you know that. Ever since they told me about… you know.”

 

They’re in a public place. There’s only so much he can say.

 

Reed kind of stares at him, their expression a little incredulous. “You should probably tell him that.”

 

Evan sighs. “I know. I know I should, it’s just that… he’ll argue his way around it, and I’ll cave because I can’t say no to him, and then… it’ll all fall apart and they’ll find out about him and they’ll find out I kept things from them, and I… I need to keep him safe.” He hastily corrects himself. “I need to keep all of you safe.”

 

Reed’s still staring, but their expression softens a little. “You’re a good man, Evan Hansen,” they say, tone a little sad. “I know that you think you’re protecting him, but… he doesn’t see it that way. He just sees you abandoning him.”

 

Evan’s heart might be breaking. “Can you explain?” he asks hesitantly. “It’s just that if I… he might misunderstand me, and I… I’ve got to focus on the illness. I’ve got to keep working on my studies and my research and… I’ve got to.” He looks at Reed. “Did DYAD call you about the internship, by the way? I told them you were interested.”

 

Reed nods. “They called last night. I have a meeting with them on Monday.”

 

“Good luck,” Evan says sincerely. “I don’t know what they’re going to say or what they’re going to tell you or if we’ll be working together, but… all the best? They’re not… they’re not entirely evil.”

 

“They’re not entirely trustworthy, either,” Reed warns.

 

Evan nods. “I know. That’s why I can’t be spending time with Connor. If they find out…”

 

Reed sighs. “I get it. I really do, it’s just… you make each other better, you know?”

 

Evan blinks. “What do you mean?”

 

Reed smiles, a little sadly. “I’ve known Connor for three years now. It’s been a rough ride - he’s been up and down and all over the place and life has been hard for him, and this… our situation makes things difficult. And he’s… he carries a lot. The weight of things that have happened to him and things he’s had to live through… he wears that, and it drags him down. But when he’s with you he’s… lighter. He’s happier.” Reed looks at Evan intently. “He’s my brother, Evan. I want him to be happy.” They sigh. “I don’t know you as well, but I’m not blind. I can see he makes you happy, too.”

 

Evan leans in and keeps his voice as low as possible. “DYAD is our best chance of saving you. Saving all of you. But there are things they don’t know, things they can’t know, and I can’t risk them finding out and… I don’t know, pulling the plug? Refusing treatment if you do get sick? I don’t know. I don’t know if they would, but I can’t take that chance. If any of you get sick… we need a cure. The cure has to come before anything else. It has to.”

 

Two weekends before Christmas, there’s a knock on Evan’s door at four in the morning on a Saturday. It’s loud and insistent and it won’t go away. Evan drags himself out of bed, heart pounding, and goes to open the door, preparing himself for the worst.

 

It’s Connor.

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Evan says, but Connor’s pushing past him and into the apartment in a swift, decisive movement. “Connor, it’s four in the morning.”

 

“Got your attention, though,” Connor says sharply. He takes in a deep breath. “You need to know this is bullshit, okay? Pushing me away like this? It’s bullshit.”

 

“I have my reasons,” Evan says, still not a hundred percent sure he’s awake. “If DYAD found out-”

 

“I don’t care,” Connor spits out. Then he stops. “No, I do care, that’s not what I mean, I… of _course_ I don’t want DYAD to know you’re keeping this from them, I get it, I… Reed explained why you’re avoiding me and I just don’t know why you couldn’t tell me that yourself, you know?”

 

“You would have talked me out of it,” Evan says. He’s tired, and he’s lost all filters. “You would have tried to convince me we could go on like this, keep our friendship and screw the consequences, and I would have let you talk me out of it because you know as well as I do that I can’t refuse you anything you want.”

 

Connor blinks. “What?”

 

Evan’s exhausted. It’s four in the morning, he hasn’t seen Connor in nearly 3 weeks, he’s been so busy with study and research and the terror of it all that he’s not thinking straight. He’s not holding back, he’s not just _not saying_ the things he thinks and feels. “You know I’d do anything for you,” Evan says, his voice as ragged as he feels. “You _have_ to know that. I want to save you. I want to make sure that when you get sick, there’s a cure and you don’t have to suffer. Your life is so much more important than the fact that I miss you so much it’s breaking my heart, and I… I won’t let you die, I just won’t.”

 

Connor's eyes are wide. “Evan…”

 

“I’m not ignoring you because I don’t care,” he tries to explain. “I’m ignoring you because I care too much.”

 

Connor’s staring at him with an expression Evan’s never seen before.

 

Evan’s staring back. Staring at a version of the familiar face he’s seen so much of over the past few weeks. 

 

Knowing without a doubt that this the version his heart cares for most. 

 

He can’t lose Connor.

 

He can’t.

 

He’s about to open his mouth to explain when Connor leans in and kisses him fiercely. Evan responds instinctively and wraps his arms around Connor, and it’s perfect and it fits and it’s like they’ve been doing this for forever, and it’s putting every other kiss Evan’s ever had to shame. Connor is warm and safe and so, so alive, and Evan's heart is beating so fast he's sure Connor can feel it, and maybe - just maybe - he can feel Connor's heart, doing the same thing. 

 

The kiss lasts a lifetime and no time at all.

 

When they break apart for air, Connor’s looking at him like… Evan doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe it. “In case it wasn’t clear,” says Connor, his voice a little shaky with emotion, “I care about you too much as well.”

 

“This is such a terrible idea,” Evan says, almost to himself.

 

Connor laughs a little. “It’s a completely ridiculous idea,” he agrees. “What with DYAD and the clones and me impersonating a dead clone and you being friends with my sister who thinks _I’m_ dead, for fuck’s sake. We can’t… this can’t be a normal relationship.”

 

“It can’t be,” Evan says with a shake of his head. “It can’t be anywhere near normal.”

 

They look at each other for a long time.

 

“Fuck it,” Evan murmurs, and before Connor can question, Evan’s pulled him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	31. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torpedo's here to help.

Torpedo’s in the middle of an intense afternoon of gaming when he hears the sliding door to his room open. Two things happen, almost at the same time - he gets a whiff of pepperoni and gets shot in the face by another player. 

 

He puts down the controller and turns to see Connor in the doorway, holding a pizza and a plastic bag full of snacks. “We have to talk,” says Connor wearily, before heading to the sofa and throwing himself on it dramatically. 

 

Torpedo turns off the TV, takes the pizza box from Connor and puts it on the coffee table. Then he opens it up and takes a slice, idly recognizing it from the pizzeria down the road. He looks at Connor. “Wait, you got this from Joe’s?”

 

Connor nods. “Don’t worry, I wore a beanie and sunglasses. No one asked any questions but the guy at the counter said to say hi to Jenny?”

 

“Jenny’s my mom,” Torpedo explains, before taking a bite. Through a mouthful of pepperoni and mozzarella, he continues. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Guy’s dead.”

 

Torpedo nearly chokes on his pizza. “What the fuck?”

 

“He was shot, between the eyes, right in front of me,” says Connor, his voice a little shaky. 

 

“The European killer did make it to the States,” Torpedo says, feeling his stomach drop into his shoes. “Eric was right. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He looks at Connor, searching for any sign of damage. “Are you okay? What happened? Did the killer try to get you, too? Can you tell me anything about the killer?”

 

“He’s one of us,” Connor says, sinking further into the sofa like a puppet whose strings were cut. He looks rough. Tired and scared and pale and just… not good. “He’s a clone, too.”

 

Torpedo stares. “A clone who’s killing other clones?” 

 

“We think his name is August.”

 

“You had time to exchange names with the guy who tried to kill you?”

 

“He was going to stab me,” Connor says. He’s shaking now, and Torpedo puts his hand on his clone’s knee in what he hopes is a comforting manner. Connor reaches for a piece of pizza but his hands won’t stop shaking. “He was going to stab me, and he would have if it weren’t for Seamus shooting him. He’s injured but he got away… I don’t think this is the last we’ll see of him.”

 

“Who the fuck is Seamus?” Torpedo demands. “What the hell is going on?”

 

Connor fumbles inside the plastic bag, pulls out a bottle of water and tries to unscrew the top. It doesn’t seem to be working. Torpedo takes it out of his hands and opens it, then hands it back to Connor, who just kind of nods then has a long drink. 

 

Then Connor launches into an account of the previous night’s events and Torpedo feels like pinching himself because there’s no way this is real. 

 

“So let me get this straight,” Torpedo says slowly, now on his third piece of pizza. “We’ve got DYAD, who made us and are monitoring us and are in charge of the whole experiment. We’ve got Proletheans, who used to be a part of DYAD but turned against and want to kill us all in the name of Jesus. And then we’ve got this Irish dude who’s the doorman of your apartment building who has an underground network that’s kind of… separate to either group, but apparently on our side. What even IS this?”

 

Connor looks drained, but he manages to successfully pick up a piece of pizza and take a bite. “I honestly don’t know, dude,” he confesses. “It’s… fuck, is it bad that I’m not actually super sad that Guy’s dead?”

 

Torpedo frowns. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s an asshole. Was an asshole. But he didn’t deserve to get shot in the head in a parking garage, Jesus Christ.”

 

“At least it was quick,” Connor says hesitantly. “And probably painless. Better than choking on your own vomit, at least.”

 

“Or gassing yourself in your dad’s car,” Torpedo adds. 

 

Connor frowns. “What?”

 

Torpedo shakes his head. There are still things he’s not ready to talk about. “Do you think we can trust Seamus?”

 

Connor shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, on one hand, I get the feeling he was pretty straight with me. He gave me a lot of information that he didn’t have to, and he said outright that he wanted me to trust him and that he was here to help.” He looks at Torpedo a little sheepishly. “He knows I’m in touch with other clones. I didn’t say anything, but he just assumed - I guess the fact that he saw me with Guy before Guy was shot confirmed it.”

 

“You didn’t tell him about us, though?” 

 

“I didn’t give him any details about anyone,” Connor assures him. “But he knew I wasn’t Ben. Because he knew Ben - like, really knew Ben.” He sighs. “Ben’s parents are actually the worst, turns out. I thought mine were bad but… fuck, at least they were  _ there _ .”

 

“You know we need to talk to Reed and Lucas about this,” Torpedo says firmly. “They need to know, and we all need to make a decision. We make our decisions together.”

 

“I know,” Connor says. “If we Skype them, can you do the talking? I’m… I’m not doing great.”

 

Torpedo blinks. “Of course.” He retrieves his laptop from underneath the pizza box, shuffles things around and then pulls out his clone phone. It takes about ten minutes for both Reed and Lucas to respond, but soon he’s got a Skype call connecting as Connor finishes another slice of pizza and opens a packet of M&Ms. He passes the bag to Torpedo, who takes a handful and munches on them as Reed and Lucas appear on the screen. 

 

“Connor, you look like shit,” Lucas says, straight off the bat. 

 

“Really feeling the love here,” Connor murmurs weakly. Torpedo can tell that he’s fading. Shutting down. Beyond exhausted, beyond terrified and just… done. 

 

He doesn’t like it. At all. 

 

“Connor’s had a rough night,” Torpedo says curtly. “Guy is dead.”

 

There’s a moment of silence. “What happened?” Reed asks, their tone concerned. 

 

Connor looks at Torpedo, and Torpedo launches into the story, occasionally having details corrected by the clone sitting next to him who seems to be struggling to hold it all together. Reed and Lucas are, mercifully, quiet through the story, but Connor seems to be growing more and more fatigued as they continue. Torpedo’s not sure if he’s really even fully here. 

 

When Torpedo finishes telling Reed and Lucas the story of Seamus, Guy and killer clone August, Connor stands up and walks over to Torpedo’s bed abruptly, then curls up under the duvet and almost instantly starts quietly snoring. 

 

“Is he okay?” Lucas asks. 

 

“I really don’t think so,” says Torpedo with a frown and a shake of his head. “That’s two people with our face he’s seen die in front of him now, and another one that almost killed him, so… no, I don’t think he’s fucking okay.”

 

“What can we do?” asks Reed practically. 

 

“I don’t know,” Torpedo says honestly. “I think him going back to school tomorrow to be Ben is a terrible idea. I think leaving him alone in Ben’s apartment is a terrible idea.”

 

“What do we do about this doorman?” Lucas asks. “On one hand, I like the idea that there’s an actual fucking adult who wants to help us. We’re seventeen. We’re not equipped to deal with any of this.”

 

“On the other hand, it could be a trap,” Reed adds. “I get you. I really do.” They sigh. “Okay, so, stop me if this is a bad idea, but I have a plan.”

 

They hash out details as Torpedo finishes the last of the pizza and Connor snores in the background. Lucas disconnects from the call soon after, apologetically explain he’s got plans with his girlfriend, and Reed and Torpedo chat idly for a bit longer before finally ending the call.  Torpedo goes back to his game and helps himself to the Doritos in the bag of snacks Connor brought, because he knows that Connor doesn’t actually like them. 

 

When it looks like Connor isn’t going to wake up any time soon, he goes upstairs and finds his mom in the kitchen baking. 

 

“Hey sweetie,” she says with a smile. “Making chocolate chip cookies. Figured you can put some in your lunch for tomorrow.”

 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about tomorrow,” Torpedo says quietly. “I need a mental health day. Is that alright?”

 

His mom looks at him and nods. “Of course it is, honey. You haven’t had one in a while, though - is everything okay?”

 

“Mostly,” Torpedo says, as honestly as he can. “It’s just… senior year is stressing me out, and I’m on top of everything but I haven’t been sleeping well, and I want to take a mental health day now to get on top of things so they don’t get worse.”

 

“That’s really sensible,” she replies, reaching in for a hug. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right honey?”

 

“I know,” says Torpedo, wishing it were true. If he weren’t part of a big clone conspiracy, it would be. That’s what sucks the most, he thinks. “I’m gonna get an early night.”

 

“Sounds good,” says his mom. “Don’t forget to turn off your alarm and sleep as long as you need to. I’ll call the school and let them know.” She smiles. “I love you and I’m proud of you for being proactive about your mental health. I just wanted you to know that.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

When he gets back to his room, he brushes his teeth and washes his face and tries to figure out where he’s going to sleep. He’s exhausted. Connor’s curled up in a tiny ball with the duvet covering him completely, so Torpedo just grabs a spare duvet from the closet, wraps it around himself and curls up on the other side of the bed. He’s out like a light. 

 

Torpedo’s woken up a few hours later to a yell followed by quiet sobbing, and he groggily turns on the light, only to feel Connor jolt from the other side of the bed. His eyes are wide and not quite focused and he looks like he’s about to start hyperventilating, so Torpedo talks as softly as he can. 

 

“It’s okay, Connor, you’re safe,” he says soothingly. “You’re here with me in New Jersey. It’s Torpedo. Do you remember coming to see me yesterday? You needed some sleep, so you went to bed and you can stay here as long as you need. It’s okay.”

 

“I brought pizza,” Connor mumbles blearily. 

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“I saw myself die again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Shot between the eyes.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Torpedo says sadly. “That was Guy, remember him? It wasn’t you. It wasn’t you, you’re fine. You’re safe.”

 

“I don’t think I want to die anymore,” Connor mumbles. “I used to and sometimes I still do but… I’ve seen myself die twice now and I want it to stop, okay? I want it to stop.”

 

“I know you do,” Torpedo assures him, feeling his heart kind of crumble at his clone’s words. “I can’t… I can’t promise anything, I’m so sorry, but we’re all here for you. We’re all here to help. You’re not alone.”

 

Connor kind of nods, then curls back into a ball with the duvet and closes his eyes. Torpedo pats his back softly, then goes back to sleep. 

 

When Torpedo wakes up a second time, it’s light, and Connor’s sitting up in bed, looking kind of blank, hugging his knees to his chest. Torpedo sits up and looks at him with a smile. 

 

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Connor asks. He frowns. “Shouldn’t I be at school?”

 

“I faked an email from your parents to your school,” Torpedo explains. “It’s how they communicate because they’ve been away for so long. You’ve got the week off. Family emergency.”

 

Connor frowns. “Family emergency?”

 

Torpedo smirks. “Figured it made sense.”

 

Connor just blinks. “Why?”

 

“Because you’re in no shape to pretend to be Ben,” Torpedo says firmly. “You’ve been through hell, and you need a break. So we’ve made a plan. You’re hanging out with me today, then you’re driving home to New York, and Reed’s going to meet you there. They’re going to stay with you for the rest of the week - their moms were totally cool with them leaving town to help out a friend, they’re like ridiculously chill. So you won’t be alone. You can just watch movies or binge watch television and I’m pretty sure Reed’s going to make you some weird-ass vegan soup but you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

 

Connor’s still staring, looking utterly, utterly confused. “Why?” he repeats.

 

“Because you’re family,” Torpedo says. “And because that’s what we’re doing.” He looks at Connor a little apologetically. “By the way, I took the liberty of calling Pippa from your phone. Our voices sound alike enough that she thought it was you, and I just told her you were out of town for the week.” He pauses before he continues. “Did the same for Jerome as well. You need a proper break.”

 

“You did all of that so I could have a break,” Connor says slowly. 

 

“We did it because you need a break,” Torpedo insists. “This has been a mess. A whole big fucking mess, ever since you found Ben on that bench, and… I know it doesn’t always feel like it, but you’ve done well. You’ve kept it together. But we’re not stupid. We know you’re barely holding on and… we don’t want to see you let go. So we’re doing what we have to do to keep you safe.”

 

Connor’s still staring and his eyes are getting glassy with tears, and Torpedo reaches out and takes his hand and squeezes it gently. Connor squeezes back. 

 

“Do you think you could get me a doctor’s appointment?” Connor asks quietly.

 

Torpedo breathes a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	32. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Evan have a nice morning. Torpedo has a Skype call.

Connor’s not sure where he is when he first wakes up, but it doesn't take him too long to figure out. He's just not sure if he completely believes it. 

 

He’s in Evan’s bedroom.

 

In Evan’s bed.

 

With Evan beside him, who’s kind of talking in his sleep and it’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

 

It’s taking him a while to process things, but the previous night comes flooding back and he can’t keep a smile from breaking across his face, because…

 

He’s wanted this.

 

For longer than he’d ever admitted to himself.

 

“Morning,” Evan mumbles, kind of attaching himself to Connor like a koala and it registers that neither of them are wearing anything and Connor’s still smiling like a fucking idiot.

 

“Morning,” he replies, reaching out to ruffle Evan’s hair, because it’s something he can do now.

 

Evan’s eyes open and while he’s still a little groggy, he’s definitely waking up. When he sees Connor smiling, he starts smiling too, and pretty soon they’re just kind of… laughing, like a pair of lovestruck idiots.

 

“I can’t believe that happened,” Evan confesses. “I mean… I can believe it because it definitely happened, but… oh my god, Connor, when did you get so damn _good_ at all of this?”

 

“I took a correspondence class,” Connor deadpans. Evan rolls his eyes dramatically and Connor laughs. “Let’s just say I had a misspent youth in New York City.” Evan smiles fondly. “Never mind me, what about _you_ _?_ College has been good to you.” He raises his eyebrows. “Somehow I feel like high school Evan wasn’t getting laid.”

 

For a minute, Connor thinks he’s gone a little bit too far in his teasing but then he realizes that Evan is blushing. Honest to god blushing. “High school Evan did okay,” he says, smirking a little bit.

 

A horrible thought occurs to him. “Please don’t tell me you fucked my sister,” Connor says frankly. “Otherwise I’m getting out of this bed right now and never touching your dick again.”

 

“Oh my god, no!” Evan insisted, going even redder. Then he sighed. “If you must know, I lost my virginity to Alana Beck.”

 

Connor cracks up laughing. “No fucking way. I always got, like, a serious gay vibe from her.”

 

“Oh, totally,” Evan says, joining in on the laughter. “In fact, it was having sex with me that caused her to realize she’s a lesbian.”

 

“You’re joking.”

 

“I’m not,” Evan assures him. “It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life, I swear. She’d done a ton of research and was very particular about what I was supposed to do and I just kind of… followed her instructions? It was like when she was tutoring me in Calculus. Then when we finished, she legitimately said to me ‘thank you for this, Evan, I can confirm I’m a lesbian now’, put on her clothes and left. And we never spoke of it again.”

 

Connor doesn’t think he’s laughed this hard in a long time. “That’s fucking hysterical, oh my god Evan.” He grins. “Seriously, though, I’m so glad you didn’t fuck my sister. I don’t think I could handle it. I don’t want to even think about my sister having sex, oh my god.”

 

“You’re the one who keeps bringing her up!” Evan says with a laugh. “You are literally _naked in bed with me_ and you keep talking about your sister. What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Connor snorts. “What’s wrong with _me? Your penis_ turned Alana Beck gay.”

 

Evan lets out an indignant yelp. It’s adorable. “I was going to keep this from you for your own good, but you’ve forced my hand,” says Evan, narrowing his eyes. He pauses for dramatic effect, then continues. “Guess who _else_ Alana slept with.”

 

Connor stares. “No.”

 

“Alana Beck totally deflowered your sister,” Evan says with a grin. “Have fun getting _that_ mental image out of your head.”

 

Connor picks up the pillow and hits Evan with it firmly. Evan retaliates, and suddenly there’s a full-blown pillow fight happening. Then Evan finds out Connor’s ticklish and pretty soon they’re giggling like idiots in a pile of tangled limbs and then Evan’s on top of Connor and he’s definitely awake when Evan leans in to kiss him and…

 

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of laughter and incredible sex. They’re lying together in bed, basking in the afterglow as a sweaty, intertwined mess, and Connor feels like he might drift off to sleep when Evan’s voice cuts the comfortable stillness.

 

“What are we doing, Connor?”

 

“I don’t know. I do know what we just did, though.” Connor smirks. “And I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

 

“We both know we can’t… we can’t have anything normal,” Evan says quietly. “I can’t introduce you to my mom, I can’t be seen with you on campus here in case someone recognizes your face, I can’t be seen with you in public in case DYAD catches on... we’d have to hide.”

 

“So we hide,” Connor says simply. Because he can’t give this up. Because he can’t overthink it. Because he has to keep it simple, otherwise he’s going to drive himself crazy.  “We keep it careful.”

 

Evan sighs. “That’s no way to live. I don’t like the idea of sneaking around. It makes it feel like how we feel about each other is wrong.” Connor looks at him and Evan kind of turns pale. “I meant how I feel about you, I’m not, like, assuming that you-”

 

“Evan. You have to know I’m crazy about you,” Connor confesses softly. “And I don’t necessarily love the idea of sneaking around either. But your safety is important. I can deal with the inconvenience if it protects you from getting hurt by a shady science organization.”

 

“Same here,” Evan says, his voice warm. “On all fronts.”

 

“So we’re settled,” Connor says decisively, wrapping his arms tighter around Evan. “We can have this. I think we both deserve to be happy, don’t you?”

 

“I think you deserve everything,” Evan says, looking straight at Connor.

 

Connor doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say in response, so he kisses Evan soundly and hopes he understands. From the look in Evan’s eyes as they break away, he’s pretty sure he does.

 

* * *

 

Torpedo gets why all the DYAD information is on paper. He really does. But it’s really messing with his digital collection, and his headache means that typing isn’t as easy as it usually would be. On a good day, he’s got a typing speed of over a hundred words per minute, but these days he can barely concentrate.

 

The information on the illness from DYAD is covered in neatly written annotations that really do make the whole thing make a lot more sense, though. Evan’s got nice handwriting, Torpedo muses, and he’s good at explaining things. He’d make a pretty decent teacher.

 

He’s debating whether he should just straight up ask Evan for digital copies when there’s a message on his phone. It’s from Parker, to both him and Tommy, wanting to arrange a Skype. And, well, he’s free, so… why the hell not?

 

Before he texts back, he goes to the drawer beside his bed and takes out some fentanyl. He’s been using it more and more, and he doesn’t like it, but he’s got things to do. He’s got appearances to keep up.

 

Once the Skype call is connected, Torpedo’s face falls at the sight of Tommy. He’s lost weight - a lot of it, weight he can’t afford to lose. The angles of his face are almost skeletal, and the bags under his eyes are so dark they look like bruises.

 

On Parker’s screen, there’s a woman with bright red hair, hipster glasses and a denim jacket sitting next to him. Her eyes are wide.

 

“Guess you weren’t fucking kidding,” she says. Her voice is low and throaty, like she’s smoked too many cigarettes. “Fucking hell, three of you. And that’s just a fraction, you reckon?”

 

“This must be Ivy,” says Torpedo to Parker. He waves a little. “Hi. I’m Torpedo.”

 

"I'm Tommy," says the other clone with a nod.

 

“Hi Tommy," says Ivy. Then she turns to Torpedo. "Your mom named you _Torpedo_?”

 

“My mom named me Marvin.”

 

“Fuck. Torpedo it is.” She laughs. “Parker says you’ve got new info from this DYAD institute. Can you get it to me?”

 

“I’m trying to digitalize it now,” Torpedo says. “It’s taking a bit of time, my typing speeds not as good as it was.”

 

Ivy shrugs. “Just scan it, or take a photo, or something like that. No need to type it all - chances are I’ll print it and scribble all over it anyway.” She grins. “It’s how we disgraced neurologists roll.”

 

Torpedo’s pissed at himself for not thinking about that sooner. This illness is really starting to fuck him over. “Are you getting anywhere with a treatment?” he asks.

 

“There are some advances in stem cell research that could be relevant,” Ivy says with a nod. “I think there’s a way to make it work, I’m just trying to find out more about what I need to be targeting exactly in the brain. It’s a start, at least.” She looks sad for a moment. “In the meantime, I’ve got a contact who can hook you up with medication. I think you should all be on a strong dose of levetiracetam, which is an anti-seizure drug. It’s not going to fix things, but from what I’ve studied about your illness so far, it could slow it down and give us more time.”

 

“Did you tell Reed, Lucas and Connor that you’re sick?” Tommy asks frankly.

 

"Are they other clones?" Ivy cuts in. 

 

"They're the first clones I met," Torpedo explains. "We've known each other since we were sixteen. They're... they're like family."

 

“Now that they know that the illness exists, you need to tell them," Parker insists. "They’re going to want to help you.”

 

“Not until we have a cure,” Torpedo says firmly. “They don’t need that worry. Our DYAD contact is worried enough, and we’re not entirely sure we can trust him, and… the others don’t need this right now.”

 

Tommy looks like he's about to argue, but he closes his mouth and just runs his hand through his long hair and looks away from the camera. 

 

“How are everyone’s pain levels?” asks Ivy. “I can also hook you up with oxycodone - it’s strong, but it should help. I don’t think you should be going for anything stronger at this stage but if it doesn’t work, we can look into other options.”

 

Torpedo decides not to mention the fentanyl he’s been taking. “Pain’s alright on my end,” he says, hoping it’s not super obvious he’s lying through his teeth. “You guys?”

 

“It’s been kicking my ass,” Tommy says with a sigh. “Anything you can get me would be great.”

 

“You’re in Hawaii, right?” Ivy says. “I know a guy. I’ll hook you up.”

 

Torpedo decides not to question that Ivy’s not only a disgraced neurologist, she also seems to be an expert on locating drugs. Who the hell is this woman?

 

“You said that DYAD is working on a cure as well,” Tommy says. “Shouldn’t we… I don’t know, join forces? Get Ivy to work with DYAD?”

 

Ivy frowns. “From what you’ve said, I wouldn’t trust DYAD as far as I can throw them.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Torpedo insists firmly. “They’d know we’re all in touch, they’d know we all know about them, they’d know we’re self-aware - they’re not going to like it. And I don’t trust them at all. Not after Heath.”

 

Parker sighs. “Torpedo, we don’t know that Heath didn’t-”

 

“He went to DYAD and was dead a week later,” Torpedo snaps. “It’s not a coincidence. He wasn’t that sick.”

 

Ivy’s frowning deeply now. “If you can get me what your DYAD contact can uncover, that’s going to be helpful. It’s the closest we can get to working together. And if I find a cure… well, then maybe we look into making a deal with them. From what you’re saying, they want a cure as much as we do.”

 

“That’s true,” Tommy agrees. “You said that. You said that’s what your DYAD contact said.”

 

“It’s what he said,” Torpedo says hesitantly. “And I want to believe him, I really do. I just… we can’t rule out the possibility that DYAD’s been able to cure this the whole time and they’re just not. We can’t rule out anything.”

 

Back in senior year, a clone in Britain named Eric stole decrypted information from DYAD and a French clone named Guy brought it over to America for Torpedo to decode (and was a dick and got himself killed, but Torpedo’s not going to think about that). The information from DYAD has taken years for Torpedo to fully sort through, but some of the things he’s seen, the things he’s read about…

 

DYAD are monsters.

 

The lengths they went to perfect human cloning were barbaric. Experiments on innocent people, on babies - the photos and files Torpedo’s seen will haunt him forever. He doesn’t think he can ever fully trust DYAD, no matter how much they insist that they want to find a cure for the clone illness.

 

“Look,” Torpedo says, shaking himself out of the memories, “I’ll keep you all posted on any updates from DYAD. I may not trust DYAD, but I think our contact really, truly cares about finding a cure.” He smiles a little. “Pretty sure he’s completely head over heels for Connor, actually, and he’s friends with Reed, and… with how freaked out he was when he found out about the illness, I don’t think he’s intentionally playing us. But we should take everything with a grain of salt, because I think DYAD could be playing him.”

 

They’re all quiet for a while, then Ivy speaks up. “We need to focus on the science,” she says simply. “Focus on the facts, on getting a cure. If I keep to the science, it won’t steer me wrong. DYAD can go fuck themselves with their bullshit and internal politics or whatever - I want to get you boys well.”

 

Parker rests his head on Ivy’s shoulder briefly and she smiles.

 

Torpedo really, really, really hopes they can trust Ivy. Because he’s got a sneaking suspicion that the three of them are running out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com!


	33. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reed goes to NYC.

From a young age, Reed’s known that his moms aren’t exactly like other kids parents. In kindergarten and the first few years of elementary school, they’d be teased by the other kids for his weird ‘dyke moms’, which Reed didn’t like at all. As a kid, Reed didn’t understand why people were so mean because their moms had always said to treat people kindly. 

 

Momma K told Reed, very seriously when they were about 6, that if anyone told them ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me’, to call bullshit because words can be very hurtful. 

 

After a bullying incident where a teacher pulled that very line and young Reed replied with ‘I call bullshit’, their moms took them out of school and started homeschooling. 

 

Reed knows that homeschooling gets a bad rap, but it’s worked very well for them. Momma K, a horticulturist by profession, took on most of the schooling, with the occasional input from Momma L, who’s a surgeon. Reed spent a decent chunk of their childhood at the hospital, watching Momma L work and being talked through various procedures with other medical students. 

 

Momma K figured out Reed was dyslexic when they were about seven, which only strengthened her resolve to homeschool. She poured herself into research and once Reed got their head around how their brain processes language, the sky was the limit. 

 

At seventeen, Reed’s been accepted into a good university, has done most of their major testing and is now just working on things for the fun of learning, occasionally sitting in on classes at the local community college by arrangement with Momma K just to get used to a more structured learning format again. 

 

Most people’s parents wouldn’t be super cool with the idea of letting their seventeen-year-old go to New York City for the week to stay with a friend, but Reed’s moms aren’t most people’s parents. 

 

“Text us every day,” says Momma K as Reed prepares to get on a bus. “And let us know if there’s anything we can do to help your friend.”

 

“I will,” Reed promises, giving her a kiss on the cheek then embarking on the journey. 

 

Reed’s moms had met at the hospital, funnily enough. Kat Wells had an accident at work that required minor surgery, Lilah Albrecht was helping in the emergency room due to short staffing and as Kat would tell it, it was love at first sight. Headstrong and driven Lilah took a bit of convincing to pursue a relationship (as she insisted she didn’t have time) but eventually gave in and they’d been going strong ever since. Reed was an IVF baby and his moms loved them to bits. 

 

Reed doesn’t know what their moms would think if they knew they were actually part of an illegal human cloning experiment. They’re pretty sure Momma L would try to find someone to sue but would also want to know absolutely everything about how they did it. 

 

When Reed arrives in New York, they get a taxi to Ben’s apartment. They’ve tried to keep their look a little more sedate, so as not to freak anyone out. As they walk through the door, a little hesitant, the doorman cracks up laughing and smiles widely.

 

“I take it you must be Reed,” he says, his tone a little fond. “Connor told me you’d be arriving soon. He just got home. Tells me you boys are looking after him.” Then he winces. “Oh, sorry kid, Connor told me you’re not a boy. Didn’t mean to say the wrong thing - want you to know I respect you being who you are.”

 

“You must be Seamus,” they say, extending a hand. Seamus has a firm handshake. “I was actually hoping we could talk when you’re free,” Reed says quietly. “Just to get a better idea of what’s going on. Connor told us what you told him but it’d be good to confirm.”

 

“He’s not doing too great, is he?” Seamus asks, expression troubled. “But you - you kids are looking out for him?”

 

“I’ll be here all week,” Reed assures him. “I don’t think we’ll go very far. He just needs some time to recover.”

 

When Reed gets to the apartment, they knock on the door and it takes awhile for Connor to answer. It looks like he’s just had a shower - his hair is wet, he’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants and he looks exhausted. He manages a weak smile and welcomes Reed in. 

 

The apartment is a disaster. Connor winces as he sees Reed take it in. “Guy kind of trashed the place,” he says, a little apologetically. “I tried to tidy it but… fuck, I’m so tired.”

 

It’s only the second time they’ve been physically in the same room together. Reed doesn’t really know Connor yet, but they can tell he’s struggling. Reed puts down their bag. “Do you wanna go lie down for a bit?” they offer quietly. “While you’re napping, I’ll get started on tidying up.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “No, you shouldn’t have to do that.”

 

Reed snorts. “Of course I don’t have to, idiot, I’m doing it because I want to. Now go nap.”

 

Connor looks like he’s about to say something, then nods and disappears into what must be Ben’s room. 

 

Reed gets to work. 

 

It takes a couple of hours to get things sorted, but Reed’s got music on their phone and headphones and just kind of bops along as they do dishes, put away trash, vacuum and put on laundry. What they assume must be the guest bedroom reeks of sex and alcohol, and Reed resolves that when they next go out for groceries, they’ll get air freshener or something as well because holy shit. 

 

Torpedo had filled Reed in on some of the stuff Connor had told him about Guy, and from all accounts… well, it can’t have been great for him to have the French clone around. Reed gets the strong vibe that Connor’s prone to making self-destructive decisions, and combining that with a frankly hedonistic clone was just a recipe for disaster. 

 

Reed feels like they should be a bit more upset that Guy’s dead, but they didn’t know him. They’re not thrilled about it and they’re more than a little worried that there’s a killer clone out there, but they’re more worried about Connor’s mental state. 

 

Reed gets the very strong feeling that he’s going to need all the help and support he can get. 

 

They’re just finishing up cleaning the living room when Connor reappears, looking slightly more rested than before and a lot more… alive. 

 

“Thank you for doing this,” Connor says quietly.

 

“It’s no problem,” Reed insists. “How about I go get some groceries? I feel like you need to eat a vegetable. I make a really kickass broccoli soup. It’s vegan.”

 

Connor kind of screws up his face at that, then laughs a little. “Sorry, it’s just… my mom was really into vegan cooking for a while. And she’d always go ‘it’s vegan!’ and then it would be terrible.” He kind of looks down. “She’s not a good cook.”

 

“Good thing I am then,” Reed says confidently. “Momma K is a vegan but Momma L refuses to eat anything that doesn’t taste good because, as she says, life’s too short.” 

 

“That’s right,” Connor says, almost to himself. “You have two moms. I think Torpedo said that.” He looks at Reed quizzically. “They’re okay with you coming out here? Missing school?”

 

“Oh, I’m homeschooled.”

 

Connor snorts. “Of course you are.”

 

“Hey!” says Reed in mock-offense. Then they grin. “Regular school couldn’t handle this.”

 

“I begged my mom to be homeschooled when I was, like, ten?” Connor says, his voice kind of far away. “School was… it was hard. People didn’t like me. I was angry all the time and… well, it wasn’t great for me, you know? But I’m pretty sure my mom wouldn’t have been able to deal with me full time and sending me to regular school was just… easier.”

 

“I was at regular school briefly,” Reed admits. “The moms took me out.” They look at Connor. “They’re fine that I’m here, by the way. I just have to keep in touch and let them know where I am. It’s all good.”

 

“Your moms are chill as fuck,” says Connor, clearly slightly impressed. “There’s no way in hell my parents would have been cool with me just fucking off to New York for a week.”

 

“Was it just you and your parents?” Reed asks curiously. “I’m an only child, and so is Lucas. Torpedo had an older sister but she died. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

 

“There was my younger sister,” Connor says, his tone quiet. “Zoe. She… she hates me, and she’s got every right to, because I was… I was awful to her. Hopefully, things are better for her now that I’m gone.”

 

Reed doesn’t think that’s true, but they also don’t feel like an emotional conversation is a great idea for Connor’s current state. “Where’s the nearest grocery store?” they ask instead. “I’ll go get some supplies.”

 

Connor gives vague directions and Reed sets off, putting on a beanie and some sunglasses before they depart to give them at least a vague sense of disguise. Soon they’re back at Ben’s apartment with a big bag of groceries, including air freshener for the spare room, and they’ve got a pot of soup simmering on the stove when there’s a soft knock at the door. 

 

“That’s probably Seamus,” Reed says to Connor, who’s sitting in front of the TV and looking a little terrified at the knock. “I’ll get it.” They go to the door, check the peephole to find that they’re correct, and let Seamus in. 

 

Seamus looks at both of them and smiles a little wistfully. “It never gets old,” he says with affection, “seeing those identical faces. It’s not the same, but it’s nice to know what Dorian and August would have looked like properly grown up.”

 

“Do you want soup?” Reed offers. “It’ll be done soon.”

 

“It does smell good,” Seamus says with a grin. “I’m in.” He sits next to Connor on the sofa, who smiles weakly. “How’s it going, kid?”

 

“Not great,” Connor admits. “Kinda fucking embarrassing, actually - Reed here’s taking care of me like I’ve got the flu or something.”

 

“Mental health is as important as physical health,” Reed says firmly. “You need a break and it’s what we’re giving you.”

 

They chat idly for a while as the soup finishes cooking, then Reed serves everyone a bowl with some fresh bread and they sit around the kitchen table. Reed watches Connor to make sure he eats, trying not to make it super obvious, and is rewarded with the occasional eye-roll but an empty bowl. 

 

Over dinner, Seamus tells them more about his hunt for the clones. He’s found clones all over the world, he tells them, even as far as places like Japan and New Zealand. He’s brought a data stick full of information, which he hands to Reed without a moment’s hesitation, and that’s when Reed decides to take a risk. 

 

“We need to contact an English clone,” Reed says. “All we know is that they call him Beanpole, and he’s in London. Another clone named Eric stole information from DYAD, Guy from France brought it over for one of our other clones to decrypt. Connor was about to take Guy to the airport when August shot him.” They look at Seamus. “Can your network help us get this information to Beanpole?”

 

“It’s not a name I know off the top of my head,” Seamus says apologetically, “but I have contacts in London. I’m sure there’s a way. We try not to engage with the clones unless we have to, unless they need keeping safe, but when we do, we’re open with our information.” He smiles. “There are three clones in Helsinki we’ve been in contact with. It’s possible they’ve made contact with others and haven’t told us. I can pass it on that way.”

 

“From what Guy said, there appears to be a bit of a European network,” Reed agrees thoughtfully. “It could work.” They sigh. “If we can all work together, then we might just get some answers.”

 

“While I respect that you want answers,” Seamus says carefully, “you need to realize that it’s dangerous. And that you’re young. And that you have time to find answers, to do things carefully and slowly. I don’t want to discourage you from finding out what you need to know about your past, but I do want you to remember that… you’re seventeen. You’re all just kids.”

 

“I’ll confirm with the others,” Reed says, looking at Connor, who just kind of nods, “because we need to all be in agreement, but if you can get that data to Beanpole, that would be a huge help.” 

 

“It’s kind of nice to have an adult on our side,” Connor murmurs. “Not exactly used to that.”

 

Seamus looks horribly, horribly sad. “I’m on your side,” he insists. “All of you. Whatever it takes, whatever I can do - I’ll help.”

 

“What about August?” Connor asks. “We know he’s in New York. We know he’s injured, but I don’t think it was fatal.”

 

“I didn’t shoot to kill,” Seamus admits. “I couldn’t. Not if he… anyway, the chances of him coming back are high.” He sighs. “If we could get through to him, somehow. Make him realize that you’re not his enemy. I still want to believe he’s not beyond saving.”

 

“He’s a murderer,” Reed says gently, “but if what you say is true, he’s basically been… indoctrinated into it. If we could… I don’t know, catch him alive, could we rehabilitate him?”

 

“I don’t know,” Seamus says honestly. “I really, really don’t know. I’d like to hope so, but I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking.”

 

Reed’s not sure either. 

 

But for Seamus’s sake, and for the sake of the rest of them, they hope August can be stopped without more bloodshed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com - and if anyone ever wants to do fanart, I ALWAYS welcome it and get super excited about it, so... please draw some clones! I'm happy to tell you more about them for drawing purposes!


	34. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas.

The weeks leading up to Christmas pass in a blur of late night visits from Connor and knowing looks from Reed, who doesn’t say anything outright but occasionally comments on Evan’s newfound penchant for turtlenecks.

 

Evan knows what he and Connor are doing is a terrible idea, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

 

Class finishes for the break, and Evan prepares to drive home. Since his trip to Vermont, DYAD has given him a work car, which he doesn’t use particularly often (because he’s sure it’s used to track his movements) but proves useful to get home for Christmas. He double checks with Michelle that it’s okay to use the car for non-work purposes first, of course, and she assures him it’s his to use as he needs.

 

He’ll, of course, never use it to drive to New York, even at nights where Connor’s in the city and he’s in his apartment alone at 2 in the morning, wishing they were together.

 

Just because Connor is constantly showing up at his house in the middle of the night doesn’t mean Evan can do the same.

 

Because DYAD is watching Evan.

 

He’s worried about Connor being alone over Christmas, but Connor assures him he has plans, though he doesn’t specify. There are things Connor doesn’t tell Evan, which he doesn’t love but understands. Evan tries to tell Connor everything he can, including dropping the bomb that Larry Murphy was Connor’s monitor, which Connor doesn’t freak out over as much as Evan thought he might. But there are also thinks Evan can’t tell Connor, so he gets it.

 

In an ideal world, Connor would be coming home from Christmas with Evan. They’d spend Christmas Eve with the Murphys, then Christmas morning with Heidi and all get together on Christmas afternoon as a group. The Murphys would be proud of Connor’s position as top of his class at NYU. Connor would tease Zoe about Hannah. Zoe would give Connor a hard time about his beard, and Cynthia would say she thinks it looks dashing, and Larry would make a terrible dad joke about the long hair, the beard, and Jesus. Heidi would bring out baby photos of Evan and show them off to Connor, who’d laugh while Evan sat on the sofa and tried not to die of embarrassment. They’d exchange presents and be happy and no one would have time to think about the wasted years, the heartbreak, the loss of it all.

 

Evan knows this is a complete fantasy.

 

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.

 

His mom is working on Christmas Eve but has Christmas Day and the two days after it off, so Evan’s arranged to drive home on the 23rd, spend Christmas Eve with the Murphys, spend Christmas with his mom and then go back to his apartment on the 28th. Then he’ll get on a bus and spend New Year’s in New York with Connor, where they’ll finally have Evan and Connor’s Excellent NYC Adventure.

 

Evan feels a little bit bad he’s looking forward to that more than he is to Christmas.

 

He gets home to find that his mom has, in fact, used the money he gave her to paint his room. In retaliation, Evan goes to the supermarket and stocks the freezer with the fancy one person meals that don’t taste like feet. He also picks up the fancy cheese she likes, some fancy crackers and her favorite kind of chocolate, along with a couple of other basics he’d noticed she was low on. He gets back to the house with his purchases only to find Heidi home from work, and she just sighs at the sight of him and his groceries.

 

“I’ll pay half,” she says as she helps him unpack.

 

“No you won’t,” Evan replies cheerfully, putting the cheese in the fridge.

 

“Evan,” she says in exasperation.

 

“Mo-om,” he replies in the same tone. “Let me do this.” He leans in and gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’ve looked after me for so long.”

 

Heidi tears up. “I’m so proud of you.”

 

Evan doesn’t always feel like his mom should be proud of him. It’s never sat with him well. Heidi’s the kind of person who would constantly say how proud she was of Evan for the smallest things he’d accomplish, and he didn’t always think he deserved it. He’s still not sure that he does, but being able to buy groceries for his mom? Being able to buy her nice things? It’s a good feeling.

 

They spend the evening together catching up and watching stuff on Netflix. Heidi opens a bottle of wine and pours Evan a glass, saying that he’s close enough to 21 for her not to feel bad about it, and they end up finishing the bottle and falling asleep on the couch together. It’s nice - different, but nice.

 

He suspects his mom has a few regrets the next morning when she wakes up with a crick in her neck, but she doesn’t complain, she just has a hot shower then insists on making them breakfast before heading off to work for a shift just after lunch.

 

Evan arrives at the Murphys just before six, armed with presents. When he knocks on the door, Zoe answers almost immediately and drags him inside. “Thank god you’re here,” she practically hisses. “Mom’s being super weird, she might start acting normal when she sees you. She still thinks the sun shines out of your ass.”

 

“That’s such a great mental image,” Evan replies with a roll of his eyes. “Hey Hannah. How’s it going?”

 

Hannah waves back then puts her hands in her pockets. “I don’t think Mrs. Murphy likes me very much,” she says frankly. “Other than that, I’m cool. I’m Jewish, so Christmas is kinda… it’s whatever.”

 

“Oh,” says Evan, who hadn’t known this. “Shit. I got you a Christmas present. Is that okay?”

 

Hannah laughs. “It’s fine. It’s nice of you, thank you.”

 

Zoe notices the bag of presents in Evan’s hand and leans in to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Of course you went overboard with presents now that you’ve got this fancy DYAD job,” Zoe says with fondness. “Let me guess - you’re trying to help your mom out with money but she keeps refusing it?”

 

“We’re engaged in a cold war at the moment,” Evan confirms. “I try to give her money, she uses it to paint my bedroom. I’ve currently got the winning move after buying her groceries, but I anticipate a countermove soon.”

 

“Speaking of fancy DYAD jobs,” Zoe says with a grin. “Guess who scored herself an internship?”

 

Evan’s heart nearly stops as Hannah breaks into a proud smile. He forces a smile of his own. “Congratulations! That’s such great news!”

 

“I didn’t expect it,” Hannah said honestly. “But I sent in an online application and mentioned that I knew you, and they called and talked about my background and… I start in the new year. I’ll be working with a Dr. Kylie McAllister, she mentioned she knew you? So who knows, we might end up working together on something. There’s also this other intern who I think goes to your university - Reed Albrecht?”

 

“I know them,” says Evan. “I know Kylie and I know Reed. That’s… wow, Hannah, that’s a great opportunity for you!”

 

“It sounds really exciting,” Hannah confesses. “Kylie’s given me some background. It’s all theoretical, of course, but treating this genetic disease… it’s really interesting.”

 

 _All theoretical,_ Evan repeats in his mind. Hannah doesn’t know about the clones. Hannah can’t know about the clones. Hannah wouldn’t know if she met Reed that they looked like Connor, even if their paths do cross, because Hannah never met Connor. As long as Reed never meets Zoe, then… it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be fine.

 

But this is dangerously close.

 

Terrifyingly close.

 

He wonders what DYAD are playing at.

 

What do they _know?_

 

Zoe leads Evan into the living room, and Cynthia stands up to hug him as soon as he’s near enough. “It’s so good to see you, Evan!” she gushes. “How are you? How’s school? You know, I was on your campus a few months back, and I meant to text you but it completely slipped my mind.”

 

“Oh?” Evan asks, curious. “Is this for the, uh, the suicide prevention campaign? I remember seeing something on your Facebook. I meant to go along, it was just a bit flat out.”

 

“Zoe tells us you’re enjoying your internship,” Larry says, extending a hand for Evan to shake. “I’ve had dealings with The DYAD Institute professionally. Some of the stuff they’re doing is cutting edge stuff.” He smiles. “Almost like science-fiction.”

 

There’s a weird, unsettled feeling in Evan’s stomach but he nods. “I’m learning a lot,” he replies. “It’s a challenge balancing studies and research, but they’re very supportive.”

 

“Well, it’s good to see that bright young minds like you and Hannah are being given these opportunities,” says Larry.

 

“Hannah’s working for DYAD as well?” Cynthia says in surprise. “I thought she delivered pizzas.”

 

“I literally told you this morning, Mom,” Zoe says, clearly irritated. “Hannah’s starting work with DYAD in the New Year.” Zoe looks at Hannah and takes her hand. Her whole face softens. “Hannah’s kind of a genius.”

 

“DYAD only takes the best,” Larry agrees. “Evan, Hannah, either of you keen for a glass of scotch?”

 

“Surely Hannah would prefer a glass of wine,” Cynthia says with a smile.

 

“Actually, scotch sounds great, Mr. Murphy,” Hannah replies, her voice steady.

 

“Please, call me Larry.”

 

Evan accepts a glass of scotch himself, then takes a seat next to Zoe on the sofa. Cynthia smiles. “It’s so good to see you again, Evan, and it’s great to hear you and Zoe got to catch up a few weeks back. I think it’s really lovely the two of you have stayed in touch. You always were so good together.”

 

Zoe makes a choking sound from beside Evan, and Evan jumps in before Zoe can say anything. “The trip was last minute, but I was really glad to see Zoe and meet Hannah,” Evan says, trying to keep his tone light. “Zoe’s been talking about her nonstop, it was great to put a face to the name.”

 

“Well, that’s terrific,” says Cynthia cheerfully. “I’m glad you got a chance to meet Zoe’s friend.”

 

“Yeah, it was really great that my  _friend_ Evan got to meet my  _girlfriend_ Hannah,” says Zoe forcefully. She finishes the glass of wine she’s holding, then stands up. “More wine, Mom? How about you come into the kitchen and help me pick the next bottle.”

 

Zoe drags Cynthia out of the living room and into the kitchen. Pretty soon the muffled sounds of a heated argument drift toward them. Larry clears his throat. “More scotch?”

 

Evan and Hannah look at each other and nod. Larry smiles uncomfortably and fills their glasses, then fills his own.

 

“So you said you’ve had professional dealings with DYAD,” Hannah says conversationally. “You’re a lawyer, right?”

 

“I’ve done some work on various patents,” Larry confirms, more than happy to have a topic of conversation that’s not his wife and daughter arguing in the next room. “The firm has been working with them since the late nineties, before either of you were born. It’s exciting to see how technology and science have progressed.”

 

“Since the late nineties?” Evan asks. “That’s a long time.”

 

There’s no way to ask if Larry Murphy knows that human cloning exists.

 

There’s no way to ask if Larry Murphy knows that his son was a clone.

 

Evan knows that Larry was Connor’s monitor. He also knows that not all monitors are aware of the true purpose of their monitoring.

 

He also knows that some monitors know exactly what they’re doing.

 

Was Larry one of those monitors?

 

“I’ve never had much of a scientific mind,” Larry confesses, “but I believe in progress, and discovery, and all those things. Working with DYAD has… opened my eyes to things I wouldn’t have dreamed possible.”

 

“Like what?” Hannah asks, clearly interested.

 

“I had a meeting with a DYAD scientist just last week,” Larry says, warming to his topic. “He told me that he’d just emailed a vaccine to a scientist in Denmark, who’d then… printed it using a biological 3D printer! That’s completely incredible. It doesn’t sound real, but it’s what they’re doing.”

 

“Like you said earlier,” Evan ventures, “some of the things they’re working on sound like science fiction.”

 

Larry looks at him. For a moment, there’s something unrecognizable in his eyes. Evan looks back at this man he’s known for three years, the man who lost a son and welcomed Evan into their family under false pretenses.

 

The man who doesn’t know that Evan lied and that his son is still alive, and that even though those two facts have nothing to do with each other, the people involved still do.

 

Unless he knows somehow that the body they buried wasn’t Connor.

 

Zoe and Cynthia come back in the room, both a little red. Cynthia’s carrying a glass of wine and Zoe’s got a glass of her own. She sits down and takes Hannah’s hand deliberately. Evan feels Hannah relax a little bit next to him. Good.

 

“Dinner’s nearly ready,” Cynthia says with a bright smile. “Shall we head into the dining room?”

 

Dinner goes by relatively smoothly. Cynthia’s cooking hasn’t exactly improved, but at least she’s moved past the vegan phase, so things don’t taste as weird as they did back when everything she cooked was vegan and gluten-free. She does, however, assure Hannah that everything is kosher, which seems to make Zoe relax a little, and then starts asking Hannah about their bio-engineering course, which seems to put Zoe back on edge again.

 

But it’s fine. It’s kind of obvious that Cynthia’s still getting her head around Zoe’s new relationship, but Larry seems to really like Hannah, and Evan thinks it’s got a lot to do with the fact that Hannah is obviously completely in love with Zoe.

 

He thinks it’s sweet.

 

He wonders what Connor would have to say about it.

 

After exchanging presents, Evan declines another drink and heads home. Zoe and Hannah walk him to his car, and while he’s expecting a hug from Zoe, he’s not necessarily expecting one from Hannah, but he’s not complaining when he gets one. 

 

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Evan says warmly.

 

“Sorry Mom was so weird,” Zoe says with a roll of her eyes. “Thanks for being here.”

 

“It’ll be cool if we get to work together,” Hannah says with a smile. “Keep in touch, okay?”

 

“Absolutely,” says Evan.

 

The next morning, Heidi wakes him up with a cup of coffee and a warm smile, with the promise of pancakes. Christmas breakfast is a tradition of theirs, dating back to the first Christmas it was just them after Evan’s dad left. They sit on the couch and eat, watch A Charlie Brown Christmas and then exchange gifts. Like always, his gift from his mom includes a handwritten poem. It’s another Christmas tradition - every year, his mom writes him a poem. As a kid, he thought they were the best thing ever. As a teenager, he thought they were kind of cheesy and a little embarrassing. Now at nearly 21, he still thinks they’re a little cheesy but in the best possible way. He’s kept every single one in a scrapbook.

 

This year’s poem is a haiku, and it’s still cheesy but it kind of makes him tear up.

 

 _you have come so far_  
_I can’t wait to see you go  
even further still_

 

The rest of the day is spent snacking on fancy cheese and chocolate, drinking a couple of bottles of wine and Heidi occasionally remarking that she thinks Evan spent far too much money on her Christmas presents - a voucher for a massage at a local day spa (he’d asked Zoe for a recommendation for something local and she assured him this was the best one), a fancy new handbag to replace her one that’s falling apart (he’d gotten Reed’s help on picking something out because he’d had no idea) and a wine of the month membership for the year (actually Connor’s suggestion - he’d very bluntly said that from everything Evan had told him about his mom, the lady clearly deserves wine).

 

Evan thinks about his mom, her protective nature, the way she’ll fight tooth and nail for the people she loves. He’s always thought his mom was tough and strong and that no matter what he did, he couldn’t be anything like her, but now he thinks he might not be as different as he originally thought.

 

His mom worked herself to the bone for years and years to give him what he needed.

 

He can handle a little hard work if it’s going to cure the clone illness.

 

He’s his mother’s son after all.

 

Heidi goes to bed before she gets too comfortable, announcing that she couldn’t possibly deal with another night on the couch, and Evan heads into his room and texts Connor. Connor replies almost instantly and asks if he can call. Evan confirms and his phone rings seconds later. 

 

“Merry Christmas,” Connor says warmly. “I miss you.”

 

“You sap,” Evan teases. “I miss you, too.”

 

“Good Christmas with your mom?”

 

“Yeah,” he replies. “Good Christmas with… wherever you are, whoever you’re with?”

 

He can almost hear Connor frown. “I don’t like keeping things from you,” he admits, “I just can’t tell you where I am now. But hopefully, I can one day.”

 

“I know,” Evan assures him. “I know, and I know it’s not… it’s not that you just, like, don’t trust me or whatever-”

 

“I trust you,” Connor interrupts. “But I don’t trust the people you work for. And the less you know, the safer it is, okay?”

 

Evan sighs. He doesn’t want to get into this again tonight. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

 

“I did,” Connor says, his tone a little wistful. “Would have had a better one with you, though. Let’s just have our own Christmas next year, okay?”

 

Evan smiles. “That’s awfully confident of you,” he teases, “thinking you’ll be able to put up with me for another whole year.”

 

“Not a doubt in my mind,” Connor says softly. “I can’t wait to see you at New Year’s. Evan and Connor’s Excellent NYC Adventure is finally happening.”

 

“I feel like you should knock on wood when you say that,” Evan confesses. “We’ve had the worst luck.”

 

“I don’t see it that way,” Connor replies. “I think I’m pretty damn lucky to have you in my life.”

 

Evan feels like the sun is exploding in his chest. “I think I am, too.”

 

“Merry Christmas.”

 

“Merry Christmas.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	35. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has some well-deserved downtime.

Connor’s not a hundred percent sure he actually remembers the entirety of his week off with Reed at his apartment. It feels a bit like a fever dream, like watching a movie underwater or like being so stoned you forget you have feet. The week went by in a bit of a daze, and he has vague recollections of eating a lot of vegetables on Reed’s insistence, binging Parks and Recreation and sleeping a lot. Like, a lot. 

 

He does remember his doctor’s appointment, thankfully. It had taken a bit of effort to get out of the house because he was just so fucking tired. Reed had wanted to come with him, but they’d determined from Torpedo that Ben’s doctor had known him for years and would definitely notice a genetic identical. So Reed orders Connor a cab both there and back and he manages to get through an embarrassingly emotional consult without completely losing his mind. 

 

The doctor is nice, and doesn’t seem particularly surprised when Connor confesses he’s been struggling with low moods and that a friend of his recently committed suicide and he’s finding it difficult (which is the story he and Reed had agreed on, because there’s no way in hell he can explain the reality of the situation to his doctor). The doctor, whose name just won’t stick in Connor’s brain, admits that she’d noticed at their last appointment that he’d not seemed his usual positive self and prescribes him an SSRI and gives him some resources about therapists in the area who might be able to help. 

 

Connor, of course, has no idea what happened at Ben’s last appointment with this doctor, but seeing as Ben went on to kill himself… well, it wasn’t surprising he’d seemed down. 

 

The doctor is nice. Maybe if Ben had been honest with her, they wouldn’t be in this situation. 

 

He gets back to the apartment and sleeps for a few hours. When he wakes up, he walks into the living room and does a double take as Reed walks through the front door. Reed’s not dressed like their usual self - they’re wearing Ben’s winter coat, pants and shoes, along with a beanie to hide their pink hair, and they’ve taken out their piercings and aren’t wearing any makeup. 

 

It’s like looking into a mirror. 

 

Connor can’t help but stare. Reed kind of grins. “I got your medication,” they announce, pulling a bag out of Ben’s messenger bag. “Figured you should get started on it as soon as possible, so I took Ben’s ID and insurance card and tried to dress like Ben to avoid suspicion. What do you reckon? Do I make a convincing Ben?”

 

“Certainly better than Guy did,” Connor says honestly. “Probably better than me as well.”

 

Reed’s face falls at the mention of Guy’s name. “Did you… did you want to talk about what happened to Guy?” they say gently, taking off the beanie and shrugging off the coat. They’re wearing a garish paisley shirt under the coat, and it instantly breaks the Ben illusion and makes it clear that it’s Reed, not Ben the dead clone, which makes Connor feel a lot more comfortable. They reach into their pocket and put their piercings back in with practiced ease. 

 

“You mean when August shot Guy right in front of me?” Connor confirms. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t talk about it in therapy and… I guess I need to talk about it, huh.”

 

“If you think you’re ready, I’m here,” Reed says simply. They pull another bag out of Ben’s messenger back. “I bought chocolate while I was out.”

 

“Please don’t tell me it has, like, zucchini in it or some shit.”

 

Reed laughs. “Nope, this is just chocolate. I even got the good stuff. It’s actually got some decent antioxidants it in, you know.” 

 

Connor groans. “Why would you say that? Now I want to refuse to eat it out of spite.”

 

Reed cracks up and hands it over. The two of them sit on the sofa and Connor breaks off a piece of the block, then hands it back to Reed. “It felt like watching myself die,” Connor confesses in a rush. “Both times. When I saw Ben and when I saw Guy. It felt like watching myself die.” 

 

Reed looks solemn. “I can understand that,” they say quietly. “Obviously, I can’t completely understand what it’s like, but… I can imagine.” They gesture to their face. “This face… it’s complicated, isn’t it? It’s hard to figure out who you really are when you’re not the only one who has this face.”

 

“I don’t feel like I’m me anymore,” Connor says, trying to put what he’s been feeling for months into words. “Because I never really… I never really liked myself, you know? I hated my life, I hated who I was, I wanted to die. And then all of a sudden, I was someone else. And I think there was a part of me that thought it would fix everything. But no matter what happens, I can’t escape the… the fucking  _ mess _ that I am, you know? I keep fucking shit up because I’m not Ben. I’m not doing a good job at being Ben, and people are getting suspicious, and what happens then? What happens if I can’t pull it off?”

 

“This is a bullshit situation to be in,” Reed says frankly. “What Ben did… it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for him to put this on you. It wasn’t fair he killed himself.” They sigh. “But... and don’t freak out on me for this, just think about it honestly. If it hadn’t been for Ben, you would have killed yourself that night. You would have died. And I think… I think that’s not what you want anymore, is it? You’ve seen death, you’ve been close to it, and you can see that it’s… it’s just nothing.”

 

“I don’t want to die,” Connor says. It’s weird saying it out loud. He thinks he’s said it before but he can’t be sure. “I don’t.”

 

“We don’t want you to die either,” Reed says simply. “So we start small. Soup. Sandwiches. Sleep. Try some medication to get you feeling less like shit because your brain’s a dick.” They look at Connor, their expression open and honest. “I’m on an antidepressant as well, you know. So’s Torpedo.” They crack a wry smile. “Guess whoever made us in the test tubes really fucked us over mental health wise, huh?”

 

“Tell me about it,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. 

 

“I think we’ve all had a bit of an identity crisis,” Reed says thoughtfully, “ever since we found out about the clones. Not quite as extreme as yours, obviously - I mean, you’re Ben more or less full time, of course that’s gonna fuck you up.” They kind of raise an eyebrow. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but… personal expression is kind of important to me.”

 

“I would never have guessed,” Connor deadpans. 

 

“Shut up. Anyway, I’ve always been interested in fashion and trying to express myself through clothes and makeup and style, but I got really invested in finding a lot that was mine, not long after I found out about the clones.” Reed kind of nods as they continue. “It’s always going to be a mindfuck, knowing there are so many people out there with your face. For me, it’s about… I don’t know, identifying the things that make me _me_ , you know? What sets me apart from the others. What makes me one of a kind.”

 

“You’re definitely an individual,” Connor agrees. “I don’t… I’m just… I don’t know if I know who I am, really.”

 

“What do you like?”

 

Connor blinks. “What?”

 

“What do you enjoy doing? What can you remember making you happy when you were younger? Hobbies? Favorite bands? Anything like that.”

 

Connor tries to think about it. Tries to think back to before, when he was just Connor, when he was the only one he knew with this face. “Reading,” he says simply. “I like to read. I had, like, an awesome book collection. I wasn’t… great at connecting with people, but with books I could… I don’t know, escape for a bit.” He thinks a bit. “I also liked painting my nails. I always painted them black, or sometimes navy? It was, like, a joke at first, because my sister wanted someone to practice manicures on, but I kind of liked it, and it pissed off my dad, so…” Connor shrugs. “It’s not like I can do that now. That’s not exactly Ben.”

 

“I’ll get you some nail polish and some remover,” Reed says with a nod. “You’re not going back to being Ben for a few days. I think on the days you’re not Ben, you should paint your nails. Remind yourself that you’re you.”

 

Connor shrugs. “I guess.”

 

That night, Reed paints Connor’s nails with the nail polish they’ve got with them. It’s dark blue and shiny and once it’s dry, Connor kind of revels in the feel of the smooth polish on his nails. He’s missed it. He feels like it’s a dumb thing to have missed, and says as much to Reed, who just smiles and assures him it’s not dumb at all. 

 

The week with Reed feels like a soft, protective bubble, but it has to burst eventually and they go home on Sunday, just in time for Connor to go back to being Ben on Monday. That night, he takes off his nail polish and looks at himself in the mirror. 

 

Ben Childs is still looking back, but there’s a flash of Connor Murphy somewhere in his eyes. 

 

Pippa picks him up for school on Monday, as usual, and asks some polite questions about his family, then launches into a tirade about her family’s massive Christmas party that’s coming up and how she has dozens and dozens of cousins and aunts and uncles and how the women are expected to do all the cooking and cleaning and how it’s not fair. Connor doesn’t disagree and tells her as much, which she seems to appreciate. 

 

As the weeks before Christmas pass by, Connor feels less like an open wound. Like he can actually do this. He goes to classes and finishes assignments and works on the paper and throws himself back into being Ben during the day. At night, he makes sure he spends at least an hour reading something for fun, ordering his favorite books from Amazon one by one and slowly getting his collection back. 

 

The last day before Christmas break, Connor finally gets a message from Ben’s parents, apologizing that they won’t be here for Christmas, but letting him know they’ve transferred money into his account so he can take himself out for a nice dinner on Christmas Day and buy himself a present. The message comes through after school, and he’s reading it with a slight frown when he runs straight into Jerome. 

 

Jerome apologizes profusely, then smiles at Connor. “Hey stranger,” he says warmly. “Looking forward to the break?”

 

“Parents just texted,” Connor says, not sure why he’s admitting it but feeling like he should. “They’re not coming home for Christmas. Gave me money to go get dinner somewhere nice, though, so… thanks, I guess?”

 

“We’re in the same boat,” Jerome says sympathetically. “My parents don’t even talk to me anymore. I think Christmas is just going to be Chinese takeout.”

 

“Have dinner with me,” Connor finds himself saying. “On Christmas, that is. I’ll blow my parents’ money and we’ll find somewhere with, like, a killer Michelin star rating and refuse to dress up and traumatize a bunch of rich assholes.”

 

Jerome just kind of stares at him. “You’re not spending Christmas with Pippa?”

 

Connor shakes his head. “She didn’t offer, and she didn’t exactly make it sound super tempting.” He grins. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

 

Jerome stands there for a long moment, and then he nods. “Okay. No, that sounds great, it really does. I can help pay.”

 

“Nope,” Connor says with a shake of his head. “My treat. Well, my neglectful parents’ treat. Let’s get fancy.”

 

Jerome smiles. “It’s a date.”

 

On Christmas Day, Connor’s leaving the apartment to meet Jerome when he realizes there’s a giant box outside his front door, addressed to Ben. He checks his watch, notes that he’s got some time, then brings the box inside and opens it up. 

 

He kind of laughs to himself as he realizes it’s full of Christmas presents. He pulls them out one by one and opens them. There’s a day planner from Lucas, which is leather bound and kind of fancy and Connor has to admit, will probably be kind of useful. There’s a Tupperware container full of chocolate chip cookies from Torpedo, with a note that says ‘my mom wants the Tupperware back pls’, along with a soft gray hoodie and a pair of socks covered in marijuana leaf print that has Connor cracking up. And from Reed, there’s a gift voucher for a local bookstore and three bottles of nail polish. 

 

Connor sends a quick text to the group chat before heading out to meet Jerome. 

 

**emochilds:** thank u, u didn’t have to do that

**pinkpunk** : merry christmas!

**soccer_guy** : Merry Christmas

**torpeedo** : merry chrysler

**pinkpunk** : omg stopppp

 

When he gets to the restaurant, Jerome’s outside waiting, smoking a cigarette in the snow. Connor smiles at him, and he smiles back, then stubs out his cigarette and follows him into the restaurant. Connor takes great satisfaction in telling the greeter that he has a reservation, as the guy is looking at him with slight disdain, and takes even more satisfaction at the glares he gets from other diners when he takes Jerome’s hand and follows the waiter to their table, which is by the window and actually pretty nice. 

 

“Order what you want,” Connor says as they open the menu and sees Jerome’s eyes widen at the prices. “Like, legit, I don’t care if you want lobster or whatever, the parents gave me a ridiculous amount of money for Christmas meal, there’s no way we can spend it all.”

 

Jerome grins. “Is that a challenge?”

 

Connor grins back.

 

Soon they’ve ordered a truly outrageous amount of food, picking the most expensive things on the menu, and Jerome’s launching into a story about his terrible neighbors in the apartment next door, and Connor’s cracking up at his terrible impressions, and people around them are giving them weird looks but he can’t bring himself to care. 

 

Turns out Christmas as Ben Childs isn’t super shitty after all. 

 

And if he finds himself back at Jerome’s apartment, tearing off his clothes later that evening, he’s not going to beat himself up about it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :) I'm always keen to answer asks or chat about the story, and life and other stuff (very specific).


	36. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas's big moment. Connor and Evan's Excellent NYC Adventure.

Lucas is freaking out. 

 

He’s standing in the bathroom of his girlfriend’s parents’ house, the day after Christmas, having been completely and utterly cock-blocked by every single one of Donna’s relatives in his quest to propose on Christmas Day. 

 

Part of him wants to wait until New Year’s Eve so they can have one of those super memorable, romantic moments that Donna will be able to tell all her friends about. 

 

The other part of him has a ring in his pocket and is absolutely convinced he’s just going to blurt it out without meaning to at the worst moment possible. 

 

So he’s trying to give himself a pep talk in the mirror, and it’s not working, because his face isn’t just his face, it also belongs to three other assholes, all of whom have texted him to ask if he’s gotten his ass in gear and actually proposed. 

 

He looks in the mirror and thinks about Reed’s ‘it doesn’t have to be the perfect moment, just say something from the heart’ comment. 

 

Then he thinks about Torpedo texting ‘wait, you haven’t done it yet? How long have you had this ring?’ with a whole lot more judgment than Lucas has ever felt from a text message. 

 

And then he thinks of Connor’s sarcastic ‘still think you should tie the ring to your dick, dude’ and briefly wonders if his clone is onto something, because nothing else seems to be working for him. 

 

He’s not going to do that, of course. Mostly because if he did, Connor would give him so much shit. 

 

There’s a knock on the door. “Lucas!” Donna yells. “There’s breakfast! Stop primping!”

 

He swings open the door to reveal Donna, long red curly hair in a messy bun, clad in jeans and a soft looking sweater, the remains of last night’s mascara still smudged around her eyes. She looks tired but happy, and in the distance, he hears the sound of Donna’s triplet nieces, yelling something about a puppy, and really hopes he’s hearing incorrectly. 

 

“Nope,” Donna confirms, and Lucas realizes he’s said that last part out loud. “My idiot brother promised the girls a puppy so they’re going to the animal shelter this afternoon. At least Denise talked him out of just buying one - rescue is the way to go.”

 

“So that’s the plan for today?” Lucas asks, feeling like he might actually have an opening here. “They’re off to the animal shelter and you’re…”

 

“Helping Mom make pies for the New Year’s Eve bake sale,” Donna says, scrunching up her nose. “Every year. Every goddamn year.”

 

“So you’ll be busy all day, then?” Lucas confirms, his hopes dashed. 

 

“Up until New Year’s Eve, probably,” Donna says with a roll of her eyes. “This year Mom finally discovered Pinterest and now she’s got all these different recipes she wants to try and it’s going to be the literal worst because I’m going to have to help make all these tasty things and not eat any of them.”

 

“You’ll be making pies for the next five days?” Lucas asks incredulously. Is she trying to torture him?

 

“Probably,” says Donna with a nod. “But hey, Dad’s going golfing with Uncle Jim, so you’re more than welcome to go along.”

 

“Golfing? In the middle of winter?”

 

“Mini-golfing. It’s glow in the dark.”

 

Lucas sighs. “Of course it is.”

 

“Hey, just because us Winterbottoms aren’t as fancy as you Freemans, doesn’t mean you can rag on glow-in-the-dark mini-golf,” Donna says with a teasing smirk. “I know it’s lowbrow for you, but Dad likes it, and Uncle Jim will definitely have a flask, so you should go for it.”

 

Lucas lets Donna lead him into the kitchen, where Mary Louise Winterbottom has pulled out all the stops for a breakfast that’ll give them all a heart attack. There’s bacon and pancakes and freshly made croissants and a whole other pile of things. Donna’s mom is a much better cook than Lucas’s mom, in that Lucas’s mom has never set foot in a kitchen in her life.  _ That’s what we have chefs for, Lucas, _ he can practically hear his mother say. Ariana Freeman is a trophy wife through and through, the perfect accessory to Richard Freeman’s successful businessman, and she wouldn’t be caught dead wiping syrup off her granddaughter’s face like Mary Louise is doing to one of the triplets.

 

“Puppy, Uncle Lucas,” says another one of the triplets firmly. “Puppy.” Sally, Yvette and Claudia are tiny ginger terrors that Lucas can’t tell apart, no matter how hard he tries - which is kind of ironic, seeing as he literally has genetic identicals himself.

 

“It’s just Lucas,” says Donna mildly, scooping up a generous serving of eggs. “He’s not really your uncle.”

 

“Only because he hasn’t proposed yet,” says Daniel Winterbottom through a mouthful of pancakes. “The girls may as well get used to it, it’s coming.”

 

“We’re not even 21 yet, Daniel,” says Donna with a roll of her eyes, helping herself to another serving of bacon and sending Lucas a quick wink. “Isn’t that a bit young to be thinking of that kind of thing?”

 

Lucas just kind of stares. Shit. He'd been sure they were on the same page - they'd definitely discussed it a couple of times, but... shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

 

Mary Louise, who just three nights ago sat with her husband William in their living room as Lucas asked for their blessing to propose, just kind of smiles serenely. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she says as she pours some orange juice for one of the triplets. “And engaged doesn’t necessarily mean you need to get married straight away.”

 

William Winterbottom looks like he’s trying to hide a smile. “With all the chaos around here, how’s Lucas supposed to get a word in edgewise to pop the question?”

 

The room goes quiet, except for the sound of one of the triplets hitting their plate with the back of their fork. 

 

“Wait, what?” says Donna, her voice quiet and her eyes wide. 

 

Lucas takes a deep breath and thinks of Torpedo telling him to get on with it. Thinks of Reed telling him there doesn’t need to be a big romantic moment. Tries not to think about Connor’s suggestion. 

 

He gets down on one knee and pulls out the ring. “How about it?” he asks Donna hesitantly. “Will you marry me?”

 

Donna stares in shock, then bursts out laughing. “Of course I will, you fucking idiot,” she says, kneeling on the floor and grabbing his face to kiss him.

 

“Aunty Donna said a bad word!” yells one of the triplets. 

 

Lucas puts the ring on Donna’s finger, pleased to see it fits perfectly, and then they’re kissing, still on the floor of Donna’s parents’ dining room, and it’s perfect. 

 

* * *

 

Connor is freaking out. 

 

He’s completely convinced that something is going to go horribly wrong. He’s at the train station, where Evan should be arriving any minute, and he’s legitimately convinced that he’ll get a message any moment, with some kind of horrible, DYAD related reason that he’s not coming. 

 

He’s just about talked himself into a complete panic when all of a sudden, he sees Evan waving across the crowd, and immediately relaxes. 

 

Oh, thank God. 

 

When Evan reaches him, he pulls him in for a hug and Connor just lets himself enjoy the feel of him. “Are you ready for Evan and Connor’s Excellent NYC Adventure?” says Evan as he pulls away with a grin. 

 

“Still not calling it that.”

 

“Yeah, you are.”

 

Connor sighs. “Yeah, I am.”

 

They get a taxi to Connor’s apartment, which Connor has spent an entire evening obsessively cleaning like an idiot because he wanted to impress Evan. Evan looks around and spots the bookshelf and smiles. “Looks familiar,” he says softly, casting his eye over the books. “Well, most of it. I haven’t read this one - what’s it about?”

 

Connor looks at the book Evan’s pointing at. “On The Beach? It’s about people in Australia waiting to die of radiation poisoning after the Northern Hemisphere is destroyed in a huge nuclear war.”

 

“Oh my god, that’s so depressing,” Evan says in slight horror. “Is it good, though?”

 

Connor nods. “I like it. It’s kind of… I don’t know, it’s less about the war and more about the people, and how they deal with their upcoming death.”

 

Evan goes white as a sheet, and Connor regrets everything. “Hey, I’m sorry,” says Connor quietly, taking Evan’s hand and squeezing it comfortingly. “I didn’t mean-”

 

“We haven’t talked about it,” Evan says in a rush. “But you could die. You could die, Connor, and I’ve only just… we’ve only… it’s not fair.”

 

“It’s not fair at all,” Connor agrees with a sigh, running his spare hand through his hair. “But you’ve got our backs. You’re going to find the cure, and we’re all going to be fine.” He leans in and kisses Evan softly. “I believe in you.”

 

They put Evan’s suitcase in the bedroom, then get started on dinner. Connor’s not the world’s greatest cook, but he’s not terrible, either - Reed had given him some cooking lessons over the years and Torpedo had gotten him hooked on this guy on YouTube, so while Connor wouldn’t be auditioning for Masterchef anytime soon, he’s more than able to put together a decent meal.

 

Connor’s chopping vegetables and Evan’s sitting at the kitchen island watching. “You actually seem to know what you’re doing,” says Evan, clearly impressed, which Connor has to admit he kind of likes.

 

“Well, it can’t be any worse than Zoe’s Thanksgiving meal, from what you were telling me,” Connor points out. “Or anything my mother has ever cooked.”

 

“She’s given up on vegan and gluten-free,” Evan says casually, “but it’s still pretty fucking terrible.”

 

Connor feels a pang in his chest. He doesn’t deserve to be standing here, casually talking about the family he abandoned, the family he left to grieve him, the family he’ll never see again - 

 

The knife slips and he slices right through his hand, in the space between this thumb and his finger. He yelps a little in shock, but it’s not so much painful as it is… surprising. 

 

There’s a lot of blood. 

 

Like, a lot of it. 

 

And all he can think about is blurry images of a bathroom floor and his father’s panicked voice and an itching in his wrists and red everywhere, red all over, thick and sticky and draining the life out of him, and -

 

Evan’s wrapping Connor’s hand in a towel to stop the bleeding, applying pressure and all of a sudden Connor’s back in reality, and he hears Evan’s calm voice telling him it’s going to be alright, that he’s with him, that it’s going to be okay. 

 

The blood soaks through the towel and Evan swears, then goes to grab another one and replaces it. Connor stretches his hand experimentally and when Evan comes back, he goes pale at the sight of exposed muscle tendons. 

 

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Evan says firmly.

 

“I’m okay,” Connor insists, taking the fresh towel from Evan and wrapping his hand as best he can. Evan frowns, his eyes dark with concern, and takes the towel back to wrap it better. 

 

“You’ll need stitches,” Evan shoots back. “That’s… that’s deep, Connor, there’s blood all over the peppers.”

 

“Protein,” Connor jokes weakly as Evan leads him to the sofa to sit down. He’s a little woozy. Evan looks terrified. 

 

“I shouldn’t have said anything about your family,” Evan says quietly. “I didn’t… fuck, I keep… I let myself get caught up in you and our history and I… I won’t talk about them, okay? I promise.”

 

“I don’t want you not to talk about them,” Connor says, surprising even himself at the passion in his words. “I want to hear that they’re doing okay, that they’re living their lives, that they’re still all really bad at cooking. I miss them. And if you can be close to them… it makes me feel like I’m still close to them, too. Just a little bit.” He waves his injured hand feebly, which thankfully seems to have stopped bleeding. “This was just an accident.”

 

“I’m so sorry.” Evan leans in and kisses Connor, and Connor eagerly returns the kiss, and soon they’re making out on the sofa, and then they’re moving to Connor’s bedroom, and the rest of the world falls away. 

 

Connor wakes up, not even remembering he’s fallen asleep, and it’s morning and Evan’s curled up beside him, blinking a little, clearly just waking up himself. He hears Evan’s stomach rumble. “Guess I owe you breakfast,” Connor says, his voice hoarse. “I know a cool place nearby. Think of it as the start of our excellent NYC adventure.”

 

“Let me check your hand,” Evan says, sitting up and taking Connor’s injured hand which is still wrapped in a towel and gently unwrapping it.

 

Connor’s not paying much attention until Evan takes in a sharp breath and his eyes widen. Then he looks at his hand. 

 

There’s only the faintest line where the cut from last night used to be.

 

“Oh,” says Connor, feeling this weird sense of déjà vu but not wanting to think about it. “I guess it wasn’t that deep after all.”

 

Evan still looks completely shocked. “Connor, I saw it last night. I could see muscle. You really cut it badly - there’s still blood all over this towel, and now it’s pretty much healed? Is this… is this normal for you?”

 

Connor shrugs. “I heal fast, I guess,” he says. There’s something niggling at his brain, but something else telling him he really, really doesn’t want to go there. 

 

“That’s not just healing fast,” Evan says, his voice a little shaky. “That’s… this is almost superhuman, it’s not normal, it’s… are all of you like this?”

 

Connor frowns. “What? I don’t know. It’s not a big deal, Evan. I guess we just overreacted a little.”

 

Evan’s shaking his head firmly. “No. No, I know what I saw. And the blood and… if I go into the kitchen, there’ll still be blood all over the counter and the floor and-”

 

“Fuck, I should have cleaned that last night,” says Connor hurriedly, launching himself out of bed and pulling on a pair of boxers. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

 

He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to think about this. He cleans up the blood and the rest of the kitchen and Evan comes out into the living area and frowns deeply, but doesn’t say anything else.

 

Connor takes Evan out for breakfast and flirts with him shamelessly over eggs, and Evan smiles and laughs and they’re back into that easy back and forth they’ve always had, and they spend the rest of the day touring museums and drinking coffee in little cafes and hitting up tourist spots, and it’s nearly perfect. 

 

Evan holds his hand and traces his fingers along the thin scar, and Connor can see Evan’s troubled expression out of the corner of his eye. 

 

But he’s not going to think about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	37. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August in the kitchen at a party.

August doesn’t remember returning to the warehouse.

 

He remembers being shot in the stomach. It shocked him enough for the abomination to get away. It distracted him from his mission. He remembers falling, and blood, and a man with sad eyes, and standing up and taking his bike and driving into the night.

 

He remembers an alleyway, and the rustle of rats, and the blood pouring from his side, his life draining away.

 

He remembers being sure it was his moment to meet God. To ascend into the light.

 

But God did not want him yet.

 

He is back in the warehouse.

 

Tatiana has treated his wounds, but he has been delirious with fever for some time.

 

He remembers shaking, his whole body wracked with pain, and the red-hot sting of it all. He remembers the light. The light that called him. That called his name and promised him peace. Peace, after all the killing and the blood and the sacrifice, to fulfill God’s holy plan, to kill the abominations.

 

And he remembers Tatiana wiping his forehead and keeping him cool, giving him medicine and helping him heal. Her words, reciting passages from Scripture and reminding him that his work is not yet done.

 

He remembers the fever and thinks he sees God, a holy figure bathed in light. He thinks he sees the man with sad eyes, too, and the abomination who looked him in the eye and said he was not Ben Childs.

 

The unknown abomination.

 

The unknown abomination does not feel like the others. August knows the abominations are copies, not God’s children. They do not have the light. He has been taught this, from very young. He knows how to see God’s light. He has God’s light inside of him.

 

But the unknown abomination might be like him. He does not feel like the others.

 

Maybe he has the light, too.

 

He tries to tell Tatiana, but she frowns and tells him the devil has given him doubt, the fever is the work of Satan and she must cast it out. She throws him in a cage, douses him with holy water and prays for days, refusing him food until his body gives up and the demon is defeated.

 

The flesh is weak.

 

It always has been weak.

 

God has always taught this.

 

Little by little, August regains his purpose. He is still weak, but he will become strong. Tatiana makes him soup, and breads, and on Christmas Day, they pray and eat chicken. It is delicious. They do not have meat often because it is expensive and God has called them to live simply, but August likes it when there is meat.

 

He is strong on Christmas Day, and Tatiana says he must remember to do his penance before the Lord.

 

When he looks at his back in the mirror, he sees his wings are gone. The wings he has carved every day since he was a child, no longer marking his skin. God must be displeased. He takes the razor Tatiana gave him and begins to etch the familiar lines, gasping a little at the sensation. It has been a long time. He has grown soft. He must not allow himself to lose focus.

 

He is the original. He is the light.

 

“The Lord has a mission for you,” says Tatiana when she returns from a trip outside. She nods in approval at the sight of August’s fresh cuts. “Good. You have purified your soul, my son. The Lord will bless you for it.”

 

“What is mission?” he asks, his voice rough and guttural from lack of use.

 

“You must learn more about the abomination, Ben Childs,” she says, throwing a bag in August’s direction. “On the last night of the year, he will be celebrating with the other sinners. You must infiltrate and find him. He said he knows others - you need to get their locations. So we can continue our work.”

 

August does not know why he did not tell Tatiana that the abomination is not Ben Childs.

 

He has never kept anything from her before.

 

But there is a voice in his head that tells him this information must be kept secret.

 

Perhaps it is the voice of God. August has often thought he heard the voice of God, only for Tatiana to rebuke him. He is not yet ready to hear God’s voice. Not until the abominations are destroyed.

 

Then he will be pure. Then he will be free.

 

Still, he keeps his silence on the unknown abomination.

 

He will not speak of the light in his mirror image again.

 

In the days leading up to the last day of the year, August stakes out the location of the party. He will be silent and still, keeping to the shadows while he hunts for the abominations. Only when he has killed them all can he live in the light. The shadows hold comfort, however - if he cannot be seen, he cannot be harmed.

 

While he walks through the streets, he liberates the wallets of several passersby and goes into a store to buy donuts.

 

August likes to eat donuts.

 

He thinks that God will forgive him for stealing wallets because God knows he needs energy for his mission. And that donuts are very delicious.

 

August is sure that when Jesus returns to judge the sinners and return the world to his immortal light, there will be donuts for all the righteous men.

 

On the day of the party, Tatiana brings a large basin of water and orders him to wash. It is cold in the warehouse, and he does not like to be exposed, but she tells him he smells of filth, and must not cause a distraction. She watches carefully as he washes and he looks away, ashamed of her gaze. Ashamed that she must see the broken flesh vessel, while he is imperfect and unworthy. He must complete his mission.

 

He hides his hair under a hat, then dresses in the clothes provided. Tatiana looks him up and down. “You look like the abomination Ben Childs,” she says approvingly. “You will get information from him and we will find the others. You will succeed this time, won’t you, August?”

 

“I will succeed,” he assures her. “I will find weaknesses.”

 

“Stay strong,” she says, taking his arm in a tight grip that August can almost trick himself into believing is affectionate. “You are the original. You are the light.”

 

“I am the original. I am the light.”

 

He arrives at the party and keeps to the shadows. There is a stench of alcohol and smoke and something else he does not understand but knows to stay away from. There are women who do not cover themselves, some who smile at him and one who looks away.

 

August must keep to the shadows. He must find the abomination.

 

In the kitchen, he finds chips. He takes the chips and he eats them as he searches for the abomination. When he walks past a room, someone tries to take his chips from him, and he snarls in response.

 

He has found these chips. They are now his chips and he will not give them away.

 

He finds a small room and finishes the chips, ripping open the packet and licking the salt from the plastic, then from his fingers. He is still not healed, he thinks. He is still weak. Too weak to be God’s tool.

 

It is what Tatiana always says. He is too weak to survive without her. She will protect him, tell him where to go, what to do. It has been this way since he was a small boy and she took him from the monastery.

 

Where he was abandoned.

 

“No one wanted you,” Tatiana would always say. “No one came back for you. You are worthless to the world, but important to the cause. You can be worth something if you follow my instructions. If you kill the abominations.”

 

She taught him how to fight, how to kill, how to hunt. From very small, he would fight her, and she would win. She taught him how to be strong, how to endure suffering. When he was bad, he would be sewn silent. When he was disobedient, he would be burned with holy water.

 

The holy water smells like a hospital, like the floor of a fast food restaurant.

 

There are many places that can be holy.

 

He is licking the last of the salt off his fingers when a handsome man comes into the room and closes the door behind him. Handsome Man looks at him, his blond hair shining like the sun. He has brown eyes and is very handsome.

 

“Someone said you came in here,” says Handsome Man, smiling at him. Then the smile wavers. “You look rough, Ben. Is everything okay?”

 

Handsome Man knows Ben. This is useful. August can use this. “I have had pleasant day,” he says, trying to smile back. “I have had walking and donuts.”

 

“Uh, okay,” says Handsome Man, sitting next to August on the bed. “Wasn’t sure you were coming tonight. Is, uh, is Pippa here?”

 

“I do not know,” August replies. He does not know who this Pippa is, but he hopes he does not see her.

 

Handsome Man looks concerned. Even so, his face is a very nice face. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice quiet. “Does that mean you’re…”

 

“I am what?”

 

“Finally ready to admit it, I guess.” Handsome Man looks at August’s hat. “What’s with the beanie? You’re usually so anal about your hair.”

 

“It is winter,” August replies. “Very cold.”

 

Handsome Man frowns. “Your voice is doing something weird again, too.”

 

“I have cold. Because of winter.”

 

Handsome Man leans in and presses his lips against August. They are soft and they are nice.

 

But this is sin.

 

The work of the devil.

 

He must not like it.

 

He must not allow it.

 

He snarls and pulls away. “Do not touch me,” he hisses.

 

Handsome Man stares for a long while, then sighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ben, are you using again? You’ve got to tell me what the fuck it is you’re taking! It’s messing you up and it’s not fucking okay!”

 

August frowns. “I do not understand what you are meaning,” he says slowly.

 

“It’s like you’re not even you…”

 

Handsome Man trails off, and August can feel that things are about to go badly. He does not want to kill Handsome Man, but if he must…

 

Handsome Man leans forward again and takes off August’s hat, then gasps in shock at his hair. “That’s not fucking possible,” he says with a frown. “You’re not Ben. You’re not fucking Ben, who the fuck are you?”

 

August attacks. He wraps his hands around the neck of Handsome Man and he squeezes - just enough to make him lose consciousness. As Handsome Man crumples to the floor, the door opens and there is the abomination, the color draining from his face.

 

“Jerome!” The unknown abomination goes to Handsome Man and touches his neck. August pulls a knife out of his pocket and brandishes it at the abomination.

 

“I do not kill Handsome Man,” he tells the abomination. “He took my hat.”

 

The abomination’s eyes are wide and terrified. It makes August feels strange. He does not like this.

 

It must be the devil. Like Tatiana said.

 

“August,” says the abomination in a rush.

 

August lunges at the abomination and holds the knife to his throat. “How do you know this name?” he hisses.

 

“I just do,” he replies. August pushes the knife in tighter. “Okay, okay fine - Seamus knows you. He was the one who gave you to the monastery. To keep you safe. He regretted it every day, he wanted to know you, to keep you safe.”

 

“I was abandoned,” August snaps. “No one wanted me. I was worthless until Tatiana showed me the light. Trained me to kill abominations like you.”

 

The abomination swallows. August can feel the vibration of his throat in his hand. “Then do it.”

 

August is surprised. “I will not kill you now,” he says slowly, lowering his knife and spinning the abomination so that they are face to face. “But you will give me the names of the others.”

 

The abomination scowls. “You can fuck right off. I’m not telling you anything.”

 

“The copies,” August says insistently. “The others with our face. I am the original and I have the light, but I think… I think you have light, too.” He is not sure why he says this. But as he says it, he is sure that it is what he believes. “We are connected.”

 

“We’re not fucking connected,” the abomination says darkly.

 

“We have the same face.”

 

“Yeah, well, so do a lot of people.”

 

“The copies,” August repeats. “The sheep. They follow blindly.”

 

The abomination frowns. “The sheep?”

 

“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

 

“You give me a name of a sheep,” says August firmly. He gives the abomination a piece of paper from his pocket. “You have 48 hours. Here is invitation to meet. You give me name of sheep, and I let you live.”

 

“I’m not telling you shit,” the abomination says with a scowl.

 

August kicks Handsome Man gently with his shoe. “He is Handsome Man,” says August curiously. “You care for him. Do you lie with him? You are sinful. Dirty, dirty abomination.”

 

“He’s my friend,” the abomination insists, his voice passionate. “He’s… okay, I get that you were raised by fucking religious extremists or whatever, but… okay, yeah, I’m with him. We’re… we’re involved, we’re lovers or whatever, and I care about him and if you lay hands on him again I will fuck you up, I swear to God.”

 

“God does not hear you,” August says in surprise. “He cannot hear you. You are cut off from his light.” He leans in, suddenly sure. “I can save you.”

 

“I don’t need you to fucking save me.”

 

August pushes the abomination to the floor and lunges toward him, only to think better of it. No. He needs information. It is not the time to kill.

 

“48 hours,” he says confidently. “You give me the name of abomination like you. Or I kill Handsome Man and make you watch.” He raises his knife and the unknown abomination flinches. Then August laughs, picks up his hat and puts it on. “Have nice party.”

 

He leaves the room and closes the door behind him, then puts the knife in his pocket. Before he leaves, he goes back into the kitchen and takes another bag of chips. Then he disappears into the shadows of the night.

 

Now he waits.

 

For the abomination to answer his invitation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's some SUPER COOL FAN ART on the One of a Kind Tumblr Page (oneofakindfic.tumblr.com) and you should DEFINITELY check it out! Thanks so much to all the cool fan artists - okayanna, holybroconut and hellomynameisjo :) 
> 
> https://oneofakindfic.tumblr.com/tagged/one%20of%20a%20kind%20fanart


	38. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Connor finish their adventure. Momma K made brownies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There's a lot of talk about suicide this one, kiddos. Stay safe and I love you.

Evan has always loved New York City, and spending New Year’s with Connor just made him love it more. They spend the week exploring, drinking coffee, going out to restaurants, visiting museums and all sorts of other things. On New Year’s Eve, they go to Times Square and kiss at the stroke of midnight.

 

It’s almost perfect.

 

Evan can’t stop thinking about the cut on Connor’s hand and the way it healed. It had barely been a day before even the faint scar was completely gone. Evan tries to bring the topic up in conversation a couple of times, but each time he mentions it, Connor frowns and changes the subject, but other than that he doesn’t seem worried.

 

It doesn’t make any sense.

 

Connor’s not stupid or naive. He’s got a sharp mind. He knows when things aren’t quite the way they should be. The fact that he’s just ignoring this is freaking Evan out. The thing is that he genuinely doesn’t seem like he’s just not talking to Evan about his concerns - he seems to be under the illusion that being able to heal from a cut that’s deep enough to show muscle overnight is completely normal.

 

That might scare Evan more than anything.

 

Evan knows that Connor didn’t have the greatest time in high school. It was obvious he was troubled, obvious he was struggling - obvious that there was something wrong. When the Murphys had told Evan that Connor took his own life, he’d been shocked and upset, but not exactly… surprised. He’d known things were hard for Connor. He knew what it felt like to want to give up.

 

When Connor had ‘died’, there’d been an outpouring of support and sympathy from the entire student body. People clung to each other and treated each other with kindness, completely thrown from the impact. Completely bowled over by the enormity of what Connor had done.

 

They’d been kind at first.

 

Once the shock died down, the murmurings started. People said that Connor was unstable, that he’d done them all a favor for ending his life without taking anyone else with him. That for Connor Murphy, it had only been a matter of time.

 

Evan hated it then and still hates it now.

 

The thing is, Evan remembers what it was like to be a teenager who felt hopeless. He remembers the summer that he broke his arm, and the weeks leading up to it, and the way his mind swirled with possibilities. He remembers feeling like he could burst any minute from the pain and the loneliness of it all.

 

Looking at a bottle of painkillers and wondering what would happen if he swallowed them all.

 

Seeing his winter scarf in his closet and wondering if it would support his weight if he tied it to the ceiling.

 

Holding a kitchen knife and wondering what would happen if he opened a vein and let the life drain right out of him.

 

They haven’t talked about it, but it breaks Evan’s heart, the idea that Connor could have felt even a fraction of the hopelessness Evan knew so well.

 

And Evan just can’t shake the nagging thought in his mind that Connor’s seen himself heal from something bad before.

 

It’s Evan’s last night in New York, and instead of going out, they’re spending the night in. At Evan’s insistence, Connor’s ordered Chinese rather than try to cook again. They’re sitting on the couch and it’s so safe and mundane and heartbreakingly normal that Evan’s kind of overwhelmed by the knowledge that right now, they’re in a bubble of safety that’s going to be broken the minute he gets back to his real life.

 

“Do you remember signing my cast senior year?” Evan asks suddenly.

 

Connor puts down a spring roll and kind of frowns at him. “I remember,” he says, clearly confused. “You fell out of a tree.”

 

“That’s what I told you happened,” Evan confesses. It’s all of a sudden vital that he talks to Connor about this, vital that he understands.

 

Connor’s face drains of color. “What actually happened?”

 

“I…”

 

It’s been three years and Evan’s talked about this numerous times with his therapist. He’s admitted it to his mother. Hell, even Zoe vaguely knows, after a particularly harrowing night where Zoe had gotten drunk at a party, shown up at Evan’s house in the middle of the night and confessed to being jealous of Connor, that things were so painful and loud in her head that never waking up seemed like the best solution.

 

She’d sobbed on his shoulder for hours, then crashed on the couch. In the morning, he’d made her coffee and confessed that he knew how she felt, that he’d been there, too, and that sometimes things were hard but that help was out there and things could and would get better.

 

“I let go,” Evan says simply. “I was at the top of the tree and I just… I let go. I didn’t want to deal with any of it anymore. I hoped it would kill me, but all I got was a mild concussion and a broken arm.”

 

Connor’s kind of frozen for a moment. He doesn’t seem to know what to say. And he doesn’t say anything, he just reaches out and takes Evan’s hand.

 

His hand’s a little greasy from the spring roll but Evan doesn’t care.

 

“I’m sorry you felt like that,” Connor replies quietly. “I… I know what it’s like, to feel like that.”

 

“I thought you did,” Evan confesses. He takes a deep breath. “You didn’t kill yourself that night at the park, obviously. The body they found wasn’t you. But… did you try? Another time, I mean.”

 

Connor’s gone from pale to almost gray. He holds onto Evan’s hand a little tighter.

 

“I don’t know,” he confesses, his voice shaky. “I… I only have bits of memories, but when I was fourteen I… I tried to slit my wrists. I remember there was so much blood, and I remember feeling like this is it, like this is the moment I die and I don’t have to deal with this shitshow anymore. And then my dad found me and stopped the bleeding and I passed out and the next morning… it was like nothing had happened.”

 

Evan’s heart stops. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

 

Connor shrugs. He’s still scarily pale. “No marks on my wrists. They didn’t even hurt. I just… I guess I just overreacted. Maybe I imagined it. That’s what my dad said. He said I was just making it up, that I didn’t even cut the skin, that I was just seeking attention.” He looks away. “I thought I saw, like, a blood stain in the corner of the room a few days later, but it was gone the next time I looked, and… well…”

 

Evan thinks he might be scarily pale, too. “Connor, that’s… that’s not…”

 

“I probably just imagined it,” Connor repeats. He’s definitely shaking now. “I have to have just imagined it. And the same thing happened when I was cooking earlier in the week. It has to be it, right? Otherwise I’m an even bigger freak than I thought I was.”

 

“You’re not a freak,” Evan insists firmly. “But it’s not… wounds don’t heal that fast, Connor. Not normally. It’s not…”

 

“It wasn’t real,” Connor says stubbornly, folding into himself. All of a sudden, there’s a pang in Evan’s heart as he pictures Connor in a computer lab, all those years ago, his arms crossed protectively over his chest as if expecting an attack at any moment.

 

Evan realizes, very quickly, that this isn’t the time to keep talking about this.

 

His heart aches.

 

He reaches over and pulls Connor toward him. Connor lets out a shaky breath and rests his head in the crook of Evan’s neck. They sit there in silence for a long time as Connor gets his breathing under control, Evan gently rubbing circles on his back.

 

When Connor’s breathing normally again, he lifts his head a little, then plants a gentle kiss on Evan’s collarbone.

 

Evan shivers, despite himself. Connor smiles and kisses him properly, and Evan loses track of everything.

 

The next morning, they stay in bed as long as they can, talking about nothing in particular and kissing and just enjoying each other’s company.

 

Evan’s not going to bring up Connor’s healing again.

 

But he is going to find out more.

 

Leaving New York is hard, and Evan’s more emotional about it than he cares to admit. When he gets back to his apartment, he calls Reed and invites them around for a cup of tea and a catch up before classes start the next day.

 

Reed greets him with a hug and a container of vegan brownies. “Momma K made them,” they explain as they put them on Evan’s counter. “Well, she made more than these - she made a truly excessive amount, actually. She sent a whole container for Connor, so these are his but I figure he spends more time here anyway.”

 

“Your moms know Connor?” Evan asks, a little taken aback.

 

“They’ve never met him,” Reed explains, taking a seat on the sofa, “but they’ve known he’s a friend since… senior year, I think. Connor wasn’t doing so great and I went to stay with him for a week, just to make sure he was taking care of himself properly.” Reed’s expression is solemn at the memory. “Things were… fuck, they were a bit touch and go there for awhile. We weren’t sure he was going to make it.”

 

Evan’s stomach goes weirdly cold. “Was he sick?”

 

“He was mentally ill,” Reed says gently. “He was having a hard time being Ben, and we were worried he’d…”

 

“You were worried he’d kill himself,” Evan finishes, that cold feeling still sitting in his gut.

 

“He’s come a long way,” Reed says with a decisive nod. “He’s doing really well. His mental health is better than it’s been in years.” Reed tilts their head a little. “You’ve got something on your mind, don’t you.”

 

“Do you have any scars?” Evan blurts out.

 

Reed stands up and lifts up their shirt, revealing a thin line over their belly button (which is, to Evan’s amusement, pierced with a tiny smiley face piercing on it). “Got my appendix out when I was… twelve, I think?” Reed says, lowering their shirt. “Not fun, let me tell you that. I felt pretty rubbish for a while - took a long time to heal.” Reed looks confused. “Why?”

 

“Do Lucas or Torpedo have any scars?” Evan tries to confirm. “Or have they had any major injuries like your appendectomy?”

 

Reed shrugs. “I don’t know.” They look like they’re thinking. “I think Lucas had knee surgery a few years back. As for Torpedo, I don’t know.” Reed looks back at Evan. “Speaking of Torpedo… I’m getting the vibe that there’s something he’s not telling us.”

 

“What do you mean?” Evan asks absently. He doesn’t really know Torpedo. He wouldn’t really know.

 

“Well, Torpedo’s the information guy, right?” Reed says, gesturing wildly. “A few years back we got this huge data drive from DYAD and it’s full of information. Torpedo’s the only one who’s really read everything - we all kind of… took a break from clone shenanigans for a while. I’m just getting this weird vibe from him. It’s probably nothing, but… I don’t know.”

 

“I’d offer to talk to him,” Evan says with a shrug, “but I don’t think he really… I don’t know, we don’t know each other very well and I get that he and Lucas don’t really…” Evan frowns. “They don’t really trust me.”

 

Reed nods. “Not gonna lie,” they say frankly, “they have their doubts. DYAD’s shady. We’ve always known this. You working for them… they don’t know you.” They smirk a little. “Connor’s got your back, though. Always. You should have heard him defending you after we Skyped you when you were on your DYAD trip.”

 

Evan vaguely remembers the clones staying on the call but didn’t really think much of it. “Oh?”

 

“Yeah,” Reed says, their tone fond. “Lucas thinks he’s biased because he’s stupidly in love with you.”

 

Evan goes bright red. “We weren’t even together then.”

 

Reed grins. “Yeah, well, Lucas can spot a pining idiot from a mile away.” They go to the bench and open the container of brownies, then offer one to Evan. “Did Connor tell you that Lucas finally proposed?”

 

“Yeah, he told me,” he replies, breaking off a piece of brownie and shoving it in his mouth. He swallows, and continues. “He said something about it being about damn time.”

 

“Lucas has been thinking about it since, like, September,” Reed confirms with a roll of their eyes. They look straight at Evan. “Don’t read too much into him being wary of you, by the way. It’s just that he doesn’t really know you.”

 

“I get it,” Evan assures Reed. And he does get it. Evan knows that DYAD is powerful and a little terrifying, and he can’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like to know that your very existence is due to someone’s experiment. It’s got to be weird. He can’t even begin to process is.

 

“You’ll get a chance to get to know him, though,” Reed tells Evan, their expression animated. “We’re all turning 21 in February and I’m throwing a party.”

 

Evan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a good idea?”

 

Reed shrugs. “Probably not. But I’m doing it anyway. I’ll find a venue that can’t be traced to any of us, we’ll get really drunk and eat a lot of pizza and celebrate 21 years of being literal human science experiments. It’ll be lit.”

 

Evan shrugs back. “Well, I hope you guys have fun.”

  
Reed laughs. “You’re coming too, idiot. You already know we exist, you may as well. Plus, you can stop Lucas and Connor from punching each other.”

 

“Do they really hate each other that much?”

 

Reed laughs again. “Here’s what you’ve got to know about Lucas and Connor,” they say fondly. “They are very, very different people, and they rarely see eye to eye. But Connor’s bailed Lucas out a bunch of times, and Lucas has bailed Connor out a bunch of times, and at the end of the day, if either of them were in trouble, the other would come to their aid, no questions asked.” Reed’s expression grows a bit more serious. “In fact, they both have. And they both will again, I’m sure of it.” They smile again. “So despite the fact that they are constantly on each other’s cases, they’re family. They’ve got each other’s backs.” Reed picks up another brownie. “Still pretty sure one of them will throw a punch if they get drunk together, though. So… yeah.”

 

“Well, I don’t want Connor getting punched, so I guess I’m going to a clone party,” Evan says, finishing the rest of his brownie. He frowns. “Wait, are there pot in these?”

 

Reed grins. “Momma K is a connoisseur.”

 

Evan cracks up laughing. “Oh my god.”

 

Reed looks at Evan. “You going to tell me why you asked me about scars?”

 

Evan frowns. “I’m trying to figure something out.”

 

“Is it important?”

 

“It might be.”

 

“Is it dangerous?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Okay.” Reed hands Evan the container. “Have another brownie.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	39. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and the clones make a plan.

Time seems to stop as Connor sits next to Jerome’s unconscious form on the floor of a guest bedroom in that blond asshole from AP History’s stupidly fancy house. Connor hadn’t been sure he even wanted to go to this stupid party, but Pippa was on a cruise with her aunt in the Mediterranean for New Year’s (it was a Christmas present and Connor still thinks it’s kind of ridiculous) and when Jerome said he was going… well, like an idiot, Connor decided what the hell. 

 

Now that he’s had another encounter with his feral murder clone that he’s not 100% sure he understands why he survived, Connor’s regretting every decision he’s made to bring him to this moment. 

 

Jerome finally stirs and Connor’s attention snaps to him, quicker than he realizes. “Hey,” he says, trying and failing to keep the terror out of his voice. “Hey, what the fuck, are you okay?”

 

Jerome sits up in a rush and then wobbles. Connor grabs him and keeps him upright, feeling horribly guilty because this is completely his fault. “Ben,” says Jerome urgently. “Are you Ben?”

 

Connor kind of laughs. “Who else would I be?”

 

“There was someone here who looked just like you,” Jerome insists. “But with long hair and an accent. He attacked me and…” Jerome kind of shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “He knocked me out.”

 

Connor frowns. “He knocked you out? Some guy who looks like me?”

 

Jerome nods, and then looks like he regrets it, because he winces and kind of wobbles again, and Connor tightens his grip. “He looked just like you,” Jerome insists. “Right down to that little bit of brown in your eye. Just like you.”

 

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” Connor asks, still frowning. “Because… I don’t know what to say, dude, that sounds… that doesn’t sound possible.” His frown deepens as he tries to find a reasonable excuse. “You’re not on anything, are you?”

 

Jerome rolls his eyes. “You know I’m working this party,” he replies, tone slightly irritated. “I don’t use when I’m working.” As he tries to stand up, Connor helps him, and he’s barely on his feet when he nearly tumbles again. 

 

Connor heads him to the bed and sits him down. “Okay, so I think we wait here for a bit until you’re steady,” Connor says in what he hopes is a calming voice. “Then I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

 

Jerome jolts. “No you’re not,” he snaps. “I don’t have insurance. We’ve talked about this. I can’t afford-”

 

“I’ll pay.”

 

“No, you fucking won’t.”

 

Connor sighs. “I want to get you checked out,” he says. He doesn’t have to fake his concern. “You were unconscious when I came in here, and you don’t smell like alcohol so… I’m worried there’s something else going on.”

 

“I told you,” Jerome says, definitely irritated now. “Someone who looks just like you knocked me out.”

 

“You do realize how insane that sounds, right?” Connor says, trying for a light tone. 

 

“Of course I do,” Jerome snaps. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t know what I saw.”

 

“So, what,” Connor begins, still trying to keep his voice… level, or light, or anything that doesn’t make it sound like he’s got something to hide, “I’ve got some kind of evil twin? Who attacked you?”

 

“When you say it like that it sounds ridiculous,” Jerome says with a scowl. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Fucking hell, I’m losing my mind.”

 

“I don’t think you are,” Connor says softly. “Sometimes weird shit happens.”

 

Jerome snorts. “Yeah. Sure.” He looks at Connor, his voice suddenly very young and very tired. “Can we just… go back to your place? I don’t want to be here right now.”

 

Connor nods. “We can do that.”

 

It takes a while to get Jerome mobile enough to get through the rooms of the party unnoticed, but they eventually get in a cab and get back to Ben’s apartment. They sit on the couch, curled up against each other, watching some ridiculous action flick. Jerome falls asleep halfway through, and Connor kind of watches him for a bit. 

 

And realizes, with a jolt, that he might actually be a little bit in love with his clone’s boyfriend. 

 

How fucked up is that.

 

Then his mind drifts to August, and his gaunt face and wild eyes and his ravings about the light and connections and God and… 

 

Connor lets out a long breath and leans his head back against the sofa. 

 

Connections. He keeps thinking about August’s words. 

 

_ We are connected.  _

 

Well, yeah, they have the same face. But there’s something… weird about August. 

 

Something familiar.

 

Which is just… well, that’s a world of mess, isn’t it? Connor sees himself in his feral murder clone, and it’s… well, it’s fucking terrifying. 

 

Then again, Connor has always known he’s a monster. 

 

He shakes his head. He shouldn’t be letting himself think things like that. His therapist says it’s not healthy, which is the fucking understatement of the year, and he’s trying really hard to not let himself drown in negative thoughts, but…

 

Fuck.

 

How can he not see the worst of himself when it’s standing in front of him, wearing his face? 

 

August said he had 48 hours. 

 

Connor pulls the piece of paper from his coat pocket and feels sick to his stomach. It looks like it’s written in blood. It’s… coordinates? 

 

He types them into his phone and finds directions to a diner. 

 

He puts his phone away and tries to concentrate on the movie, on Jerome’s breathing next to him. 

 

At some point, he’s vaguely aware that it’s midnight. 

 

Happy New Year to him. 

 

The next morning, Jerome seems a little better, but still quiet and subdued. Connor has no idea what to do or say, so he offers him coffee and tries (and fails) to make an omelet and they hang out for the morning before Jerome apologetically says he’s got things to do and leaves. 

 

Connor isn’t sure what Jerome’s thinking. If he believes that seeing August was just a trick of the mind. 

 

He’s hoping that the human tendency not to believe the things they think must be impossible pulls through. 

 

Then he Skypes his other clones. 

 

It becomes obvious very quickly that Lucas is very, very hungover and does not appreciate being dragged out of a bed for a clone call. There’s a part of Connor that kind of enjoys his clone’s discomfort. He’s such an asshole. 

 

“How much did you drink?” Torpedo asks, clearly amused as well. Connor knows from discussions with Torpedo that he’s not really an alcohol guy, he’d much rather stick with pot. 

 

“I’m not discussing that with you,” says Lucas sharply.

 

Reed’s kind of out of it as well, and for a moment Connor thinks they might be hungover, too. Then they kind of grin and wave at the group. “Hey guys, sorry if I’m not exactly on form,” they say apologetically. “Momma L had to do an emergency shift so Momma K and I watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and did mushrooms. It was wild.”

 

“You did mushrooms. With your mom.”

 

“With one of my moms, yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Connor interrupts before Torpedo can completely lose the plot and dissolve into giggles. “I actually had a reason for calling. I ran into August again last night.”

 

That quickly gets everyone’s attention. Lucas frowns. “Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

 

Connor puts his hand on his heart in an exaggerated gesture. “Aww, Lucas. I didn’t know you cared.”

 

“Fuck off, Murphy.”

 

“What happened?” Torpedo asks. As the most mentally present of the three clones, it seems to make more sense to talk to him. “What did he want?”

 

“He dressed as Ben and snuck into a New Year’s Eve party I was at,” Connor explains. “Knocked out Jerome, but not before Jerome saw that his hair was different and… yeah, Jerome is convinced my evil twin knocked him unconscious.”

 

“Fuck,” says Reed softly. “Shit. What did you say?”

 

“I asked him if he was on anything,” Connor replies. “And then I reminded him that the idea of me having an evil twin is completely insane.”

 

Lucas giggles. Actually giggles. Connor thinks he might be still drunk. “Well, insane or not, it’s kind of what’s happening here,” Lucas points out. 

 

“What did he want?” Torpedo repeats, his expression growing more and more troubled. 

 

“He wanted names,” Connor says in a rush. “Names of clones. He said he’d spare me if I gave him the names of other clones.” There’s a moment of silence, then Connor sighs. “I’m not going to do that, oh my fucking god.”

 

“He said he’d kill you if you don’t,” Torpedo says slowly. “Shit. Can you, like, give him some made up names? Would that work?”

 

“I don’t know,” Connor replies honestly. “I… he’s kind of… he thinks we’re connected.”

 

“Well, yeah, you’re clones. We’re all clones.”

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Connor tries to explain. “He said there was… a connection between the two of us. It kind of made him… I don’t know, it made him hesitant to kill me? And it’s not like… shit, we know he’s killed others. I saw him kill Guy but for some reason, he doesn’t want to kill me? What the fuck is that all about?”

 

Torpedo frowns. “That’s… that’s weird,” he says slowly. “I… I have a theory, okay, but I need to sort it out, but it’s not important right now.” He looks at Connor directly. “You need to talk to Seamus.”

 

Connor sighs. “Yeah, I do, don’t I.”

 

Lucas frowns. “So we’ve decided to trust him now,” he says flatly. “Alright then. Would have been nice if I’d been part of that conversation, but… fine. Whatever.”

 

“We agreed that Reed would meet him and make a call,” Torpedo says irritably. “And they did. And they think we can trust him, so we should.”

 

“You do kind of pick and choose when you want to be involved, Lucas,” Reed says, kind of flatly. “Basically, suck it up.”

 

“You’re mean on shrooms,” Lucas murmurs. “Okay, I’m too hungover for this. Do whatever. Don’t send the murder clone to my house, okay?”

 

Connor snorts. “I don’t know where you live, dude.”

 

“Let’s keep it that way.”

 

Lucas disconnects. Reed and Torpedo both go to speak. 

 

“Talk to Seamus.”

 

“I think you should talk to Seamus.”

 

They stop, and both kind of chuckle. 

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Okay, I guess that’s what I’m doing.”

 

It takes a few hours for Seamus to be free for a chat, but eventually, he shows up at the apartment. Connor makes him a cup of coffee and explains what happened. Seamus goes paler and paler as Connor tells the story, and at one point has to put the coffee cup down because his hands are shaking so much. 

 

“He thinks I abandoned him,” Seamus says quietly. “Jesus Christ, this is all my fault. I should have… I should have taken him and run and… I should have kept him safe.”

 

“You couldn’t have known,” Connor says, as gently as he can. “This isn’t your fault. It’s the psychos who took him.” Connor’s hesitant to ask what he wants to next because he’s not sure he believes it. He’s not sure he wants to believe it, or think it, or even consider it. But he has to. For Seamus’s sake. “Do you think he can… do you think that if we got him away from those freaks, he could be, like, normal again? Not a killer?”

 

Seamus is quiet for a very long time. “Part of me says no,” he replies honestly. “But the bigger part of me… has to try. He’s still… he’s still my August, you know?”

 

Weirdly, Connor does. “I know.” He sighs. “I guess we need a plan.”

 

“You’re not giving him names,” Seamus says firmly. 

 

“Wasn’t even a question,” Connor replies, equally as firmly. “I’m not giving up the others. Not at all.”

 

“But you’ll need to give him something to keep him from hurting you,” Seamus points out, frowning. “I think we can use this as an opportunity. We know where he’s going to be at a certain time. We can use this to track him. I’m sure he’s not working alone. He’ll have someone handling him, probably one of the Proletheans. He’s a valuable tool to them, I’m sure of it. If we want any chance of getting him away from them, we’re going to have to take out his handler.”

 

Connor looks at Seamus for a long moment. “Seamus, I-”

 

“I’m not asking you to kill them,” Seamus interrupts, eyes wide. “Jesus Christ, Connor. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t put you in that situation.” Seamus’s expression turns grim. “After what they did to him, after what they made him… I’ll kill whoever did this myself.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s so important that you had to see me right away?”

 

Jerome’s in an alley. It’s an alley he’s familiar with because that’s where he meets Boxer, his main contact for all things shady and underground. Jerome’s managed to keep his nose clean with his business - he makes meth for Boxer’s boss, takes care of dealing with the teenage market and in return, gets paid handsomely. He’s not in debt to anyone, he’s garnered a certain amount of goodwill in the community - basically, he’s one of the smart ones, and he’s not about to get himself killed because he pissed someone off. 

 

So the fact that he’s here asking for a goddamn favor from Boxer is… well, it’s the first step on a road he’s been careful not to go down since he was 14 years old. 

 

But he has to know. 

 

“I need some information,” says Jerome, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s… it’s kind of fucking weird.”

 

“Fucking weird how?” Boxer asks, frowning a little. He’s a big guy, who (funnily enough) used to be a boxer, but he’s not just brawn - he’s smart, too. Smart enough to know that whatever Jerome’s asking about is not his smartest move. 

 

“I want to know if there’s anyone out there selling shit that completely changes someone’s personality,” Jerome says, keeping his voice steady. “And I want to know if you know anything about… people who look the same. Doppelgangers or twins or something.”

 

Boxer is quiet for a moment. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “I don’t know much,” he says finally. “But I know where you’re going to want to look. There’s an underground club, I’ll give you directions. You go there between 3 and 4 am, and you ask for Magnet.”

 

“What’s the club called?” Jerome asks, for some reason.

 

“Neolution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :) 
> 
> Also, happy anniversary to @chchchchcherrybomb's The Desperate Type! If you haven't read it, you absolutely must go discover this amazing universe with beautiful writing and genuine awesomeness. TDT comes A++ recommended from VnG headquarters. 
> 
> *mic drop*


	40. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan has a meeting with DYAD.

It’s Reed’s first day at DYAD, so Evan picks them up in the morning so they don’t have to go in alone. Evan has to laugh when he sees Reed come out of their apartment building, wearing a long velvet skirt and a pair of combat boots. 

 

“Never change, Reed,” says Evan fondly as they climb in. 

 

Reed just grins. “I don’t care if they’re a big fancy corporate science machine, I’m wearing what I want to wear,” they say confidently. Then they gesture to their neck. “You can’t say I’m not making an effort. I’m wearing a tie.”

 

The tie in question is lime green, and they’re wearing it over a light blue shirt, under a purple waistcoat. Evan genuinely can’t wait to see Dr. Dubois’ reaction to Reed’s fashion statement. 

 

It makes him feel a little less weird about the day. 

 

“So what’s in store today?” Reed asks, suddenly serious. “What do you think they’re expecting from me?”

 

“Honestly?” Evan replies. “I have no idea. I don’t know what they’re going to tell you, but I’m fairly certain it won’t be everything they know. I’ve got a higher clearance than you, so… I guess we’ll see.”

 

“It’ll be interesting to see how they explain things without telling the whole truth,” Reed muses. “I’m looking forward to seeing what they come up with, to be perfectly honest.” They kind of smile. “It’s not… it’s not great knowing that there’s this ticking time bomb in our genetics, waiting to kill us, but as a scientist, it’s really interesting to be able to work on something like this. It’s the kind of thing I’ve always dreamed of, you know - working to cure genetic illnesses.” Reed’s tone gets a bit more excited as they warm to their topic. “And if we succeed with a cure for the clone illness, then we can probably use that to start looking into other neurodegenerative diseases.”

 

Evan nods. It’s not his area of expertise in the slightest, but he’s done a lot of his own research, and there’s a lot of crossover between what they know about the clone illness and what they know about illnesses like Batten disease, Huntington’s and ALS. 

 

Not for the first time, Evan thinks about the fact that if DYAD perfected human cloning, what kind of things could they actually achieve? What other ways could they help humanity, what diseases could they cure, what scientific advancements could they help with? 

 

Were there things that just weren’t doing because they were too busy focusing on playing God? 

 

It’s not an easy thing to unpack, nor is it helpful. 

 

When they arrive at DYAD, they’re ushered into a waiting room and the receptionist offers them coffee. Evan and Reed take a seat and idly chat about their terrestrial biology paper, and when the receptionist returns, she’s got two familiar people with her. 

 

Kylie, the doctor Evan worked with in Vermont, and Hannah. 

 

Zoe’s Hannah. 

 

Evan stands up to greet them. “I didn’t know you guys were coming!” he blurts out. Both Kylie and Hannah smile when they see him, and each give him a hug. Kylie’s in her usual jeans and sweater, but Hannah’s wearing a button-down shirt, chinos and a tie (paired with Chucks, which Evan finds super amusing). 

 

Reed stands up, too, and Evan’s heart momentarily stops when he realizes what’s happening. 

 

Hannah is meeting Reed. 

 

Hannah, Zoe’s girlfriend, is meeting Reed, Connor’s clone. 

 

Hannah is meeting the clone of her girlfriend’s brother. The brother they both think is dead. 

 

“This is Reed Albrecht,” Evan says, because what else is there to say. “Dr. Kylie McAllistair and Hannah Weiss. I’ve worked with Kylie since around about Thanksgiving - remember I had that business trip?”

 

“I remember,” says Reed, shaking Kylie’s hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

 

“Hannah’s just started as well,” Kylie says as Reed goes to shake Hannah’s hand. “She’s studying bio-engineering at the University of Vermont.” Kylie shoots Evan a smile. “Thanks for the recommendation on this one, Evan - she’s a smart cookie, I really feel like she’s got a bright future here.”

 

Reed seems to be putting together the pieces. Their eyes go wide for a moment. “Wait, you’re drummer Hannah?” they blurt out. 

 

Hannah looks at Evan, a little surprised. Evan blushes. “Sorry,” he says to Hannah. “Zoe, uh, Zoe talks about you all the time, and Reed’s one of my best friends, so you kind of… came up in conversation.”

 

Reed grins. “The famous drummer Hannah,” they say with a chuckle. “It’s great to meet you.”

 

Hannah’s blushing now. Evan notices that when Hannah blushes, it shows up on the tips of her ears. It’s very cute. Evan definitely gets why Zoe’s so disgustingly smitten. 

 

The receptionist comes back with a pot of coffee and they sit, drink coffee and get to know each other a little for the next ten minutes until they’re ushered into another room, where Dr. Dubois is sitting with a woman Evan doesn’t recognize. 

 

“Ah, you’re all here,” says Dr. Dubois. He does a double-take when he sees Reed with their pink hair, skirt and lime green tie. Evan realizes that Reed’s wearing lime green eyeshadow as well. “Well, aren’t we a festive bunch.”

 

“Good to see you again, Dr. Dubois,” says Kylie. She nods at the woman Evan doesn’t recognize. “Ms. Harding, a pleasure as always.”

 

Ms. Harding stands up and looks straight at Evan. “You must be Evan Hansen,” she says, her voice silky smooth. She’s about his height, thin and willow-y but possessing a certain amount of strength. Evan’s got no doubt this woman could break him in two. She must be in her early 30s. “Veronica Harding.”

 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Evan manages to say. 

 

He kind of feels like someone walked over his grave. 

 

“We’ll all be catching up at a later time, I’m sure,” Dr. Dubois says with a smile. “Reed, Hannah, it’s lovely to meet you both. I wanted to introduce you to Veronica here quickly - she’s our head of security. As you can imagine, a lot of what we’re doing is top secret, and we take security very, very seriously.”

 

“No need to scare the newbies, Cliff,” says Ms. Harding with a smile that Evan suspects is supposed to be comforting. “We have the utmost confidence in your willingness to engage with our privacy protocols.” She sighs. “Unfortunately, we have had… break-ins in the past, from rival companies, and of course we’d like to avoid anything like that happening in future.” She smiles again. “I’ll be overseeing orientation for Hannah and Reed later today, where we’ll get to know each other. In the meantime, I was hoping to catch up with Evan here.”

 

“Of course,” says Dr. Dubois, smiling. “Kylie, how about you get Hannah and Reed up to speed in one of the labs in the East Wing? You remember how to get there?”

 

“Pretty sure I do,” says Kylie with a nod. “Okay team, come with me.” 

 

Reed and Hannah both shoot Evan an encouraging smile as they leave, though Reed’s smile is slightly more concerned. Dr. Dubois gestures to an armchair. “Take a seat, Evan.”

 

Evan sits down and has a brief mental image of the ground opening up to reveal a tank full of angry sharks below the building, ready and willing to feast on his flesh. 

 

He’s got to stop watching old James Bond movies with Connor. 

 

He wants to slap himself for even  _ thinking _ about Connor in this place. 

 

“So Reed’s a colorful one, isn’t he?” says Ms. Harding with a smile. “Definitely an individual. You seem to get along well. That will be an asset in the future, I’m sure.” She leans back in her chair. “Dominic mentioned you at our last meeting. I’m sure you remember him.”

 

“We met when I was in Vermont,” Evan says, struggling to keep his voice steady. 

 

“He spoke highly of you,” Ms. Harding says smoothly. “I wanted to meet you myself. Discuss the current situation.”

 

“The illness?” Evan asks, hoping that’s what she’s meaning. “We’re working on it as much as we can with the team. Obviously, I don’t really have the background so I’m just providing support where I can. Given that I’m still in college.”

 

Ms. Harding laughs. “We’re not expecting you to single-handedly cure the clones, Evan. But we admire your dedication. You’ve put in an awful lot of work in an area that’s not your strength, and the rest of the team have been very impressed with your passion.” She leans in. “It’s clear that you truly care about your subject, and for the others.” Her face softens somewhat. “I understand you were friendly with one of the subjects as a teenager.”

 

“Connor,” Evan says without really realizing it. “Yes. He was… we were close.”

 

It’s weird to say that. It’s weird to use the past tense. 

 

Because they weren’t close. But now…

 

Connor’s pretty much everything. 

 

“It must have been hard to lose him in such tragic circumstances,” says Ms. Harding. She frowns. “He was placed with someone within our organization, as you may be aware. Mr. Murphy is on our legal team. When Connor passed… he took a leave of absence. His wife, in particular, found it extremely difficult.” Ms. Harding looks at Evan, her expression calculating. “And now we have Zoe’s girlfriend with us at the institute. It’s truly becoming a family affair.”

 

“Hannah’s smart,” Evan begins, not really sure he should be saying any of what he’s about to say. “But she’s… doesn’t it seem like she’s too close to this? Given her relationship with Zoe. And now she’s met Reed… I don’t mean to presume to tell you how to do your job, Ms. Harding, but it seems… risky.”

 

“Hannah doesn’t have the clearance to know the full details of what she’s working on,” Dr. Dubois points out. “And having her on the team - it makes sense given her background, and also gives us an opportunity to keep an eye on Zoe Murphy. I imagine it would be extremely traumatizing for her to stumble across another Phanes clone, given how her brother passed in such unfortunate circumstances. This way, we can minimize that risk. For her protection.” Dr. Dubois smiles. “Her father has done some excellent work for us over the years. It’s a courtesy to him, keeping her from discovering the truth.”

 

It’s also a way to keep tabs on him, Evan thinks, but doesn’t say. 

 

“Alright,” he says instead. “Obviously, I want to keep Zoe out of all of this. Losing her brother was hard, she doesn’t need to meet anyone with his face.” 

 

“We’re all in agreement,” says Dr. Dubois, the tone of his voice a hollow approximation of kind. “However, this wasn’t the main reason we wanted to see you today, Evan.”

 

Evan’s blood runs cold. 

 

Have they seen him with Connor?

 

Do they think it’s another clone he’s keeping from them?

 

Do they know he’s in touch with the other clones?

 

“Oh?” says Evan instead. “What’s going on?”

 

Ms. Harding and Dr. Dubois exchange a look, then turn to Evan. “As well as being head of security for the Phanes project,” Dr. Dubois says, gesturing to Ms. Harding, “Veronica is also Dominic’s monitor. He’s a self-aware clone, yes, but he’s not exempt from the study. Her… unique position has given us some real insights into information we need to collect from our subjects, especially for monitors who are unaware of the true nature of the study itself.”

 

“Like I was before Thanksgiving,” says Evan, trying to figure out where they’re going with this.

 

“Exactly,” says Ms. Harding smoothly. “Given the clone illness, I’ve taken the liberty of updating some of the monitoring materials for monitors who are unaware they’re dealing with human clones. They’re now providing more information about their subjects’ health, and we’ve discovered some disturbing new trends.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Ms. Harding looks genuinely upset for a moment, then smooths out her expression. “One of the first symptoms of the clone illness is headaches. We’ve had an alarming number of monitors worldwide reporting that their subject is complaining of more frequent headaches than usual. Quite a few in Scotland, a number of Canadian clones. There’s one nearby, actually - Lucas Freeman is only a few hours away. It’s important that we don’t alarm their monitors, as most unaware monitors do genuinely care for their subjects.” Ms. Harding smiles sadly. “Mr. Freeman’s monitor recently became his fiancee. She’d be devastated if he succumbed to the illness.”

 

Evan is trying very, very hard not to show any reaction to the name he knows. 

 

Trying very, very hard not to let his heart sink, because Connor’s talked about Lucas before. 

 

Connor thought that Lucas’s fiancee Donna was Lucas’s monitor. 

 

Turns out Connor was right. 

 

Lucas isn’t going to like this. 

 

“So what’s the plan?” Evan says suddenly. “If the illness is affecting more clones, then we’ve got to have a plan, right? We’ve got to step up the research?” He leans in. “I’m committed to this a hundred percent. I don’t know how much use I’ll be but… I don’t want my friend to die.”

 

What he really means is that he doesn’t want Connor to die. 

 

He’ll do absolutely anything to keep him safe. 

 

“We’re stepping up the research in a big way,” Dr. Dubois announces. “DYAD is a multinational corporation. We have scientists across the globe in individual centers, working independently on a cure. It’s time we brought them all together.” Dr. Dubois hands Evan a folder. “We’ll be sending you and Dr. McAllistair to Beijing for a fortnight to work with our leading minds across the country and across the world.”

 

Evan just stares at the folder. “When is it?”

 

“The last 2 weeks of January,” says Dr. Dubois. “Unfortunately it will coincide with the first week of the new semester, but we have a proposal to work around that. We can offer you a full-time position at the Institute for the semester and the university have agreed for it to count as independent study. We’ll, of course, pay you for your work, and it will count toward your degree completion.” He smiles. “Of course, if you’d rather stay in classes, we’re happy to work with you to balance-”

 

“I’ll take the job,” Evan interrupts. His mind’s made up. 

 

He’s in this. He’s committed to this.  He’s going to help find the cure and keep Connor and his brothers safe. 

 

He owes Connor that much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	41. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jerome goes to the club. Torpedo drops a bomb.

Jerome’s never been a club guy. He’s been to plenty, mostly for work purposes, but it’s never been the kind of place he wants to spend time. 

 

For a drug dealer, he’s pretty boring, he supposes - only out when he has to be for work, rather than actively out looking for a good time. To be honest, most of the time he’d rather be studying. He likes getting good grades. He likes challenging his brain. 

 

It’s how he became friends with Ben, originally. Jerome was the only person getting better grades than Ben in their sophomore history class, and Ben took it as a personal challenge. That sparked a friendly rivalry between the two, which quickly turned into a friendship. They’d spend a lot of time together studying, quizzing each other on various subjects and going over each other’s essays. 

 

Ben’s parents were never home and Jerome’s parents were terrible, so they spent a lot of time together sophomore year. Ben seemed to get what it felt like to be lonely, but at least his parents actually provided for him. 

 

Jerome’s parents stopped feeding him when he was 13. They told him that if he wanted to eat, he should get a job and pay for his food himself. He doesn’t think they were exactly encouraging him to get a job cooking meth thanks to a dodgy high school chemistry teacher at his shitty school, but that’s how it worked out. Instead of going full Breaking Bad, Jerome worked his ass off and got a full scholarship to a fancy private school for sophomore year. 

 

His parents had no idea he was going to a private school until his junior year, when they kicked him out for thinking he was better than them. So he went back to cooking meth, used the money to get his own apartment, and quickly found himself the go-to drug dealer for his fancy new school. 

 

It was in junior year when things started going downhill for Ben as well. Jerome would come over and notice that his stash of Adderall would somehow disappear if he left it alone in the room with Ben, but that it would always be replaced with a thick wad of $100 bills. He finally confronted Ben about it one day and they came to an arrangement, mostly so Jerome had the peace of mind of knowing exactly how much Ben was taking. 

 

It was junior year when Ben kissed him for the first time. 

 

Jerome hadn’t been expecting it. He’d thought Ben was straight. He knew Ben had a girlfriend - he’d had a girlfriend the entire time Jerome knew him. Pippa was beautiful, in that unapproachable ice queen way, but was kind of a bitch, and Jerome didn’t really understand it. And yeah, he’d maybe harbored a teensy crush on Ben ever since they first met, but he never thought anything would come of it. 

 

Until Ben kissed him. 

 

Jerome’s not an idiot. Far from it - he’d consider himself above average intelligence. Pretty fucking smart, actually. He’s kept an A average at a prestigious school, runs a successful business while keeping his nose clean, manages to keep his head above water in his crappy apartment because his parents suck and is well on his way to being able to pay for college. He works hard. He wants to make something of himself. He’s got goals, he’s got dreams. 

 

So yeah, he’s a pretty smart guy, but there’s something about Ben Childs that makes him act like a fucking idiot. 

 

Like right now, at 3 in the morning at an underground club he’d never even heard of until Boxer gave him the name, looking for some guy named Magnet who might have some kind of answer to the complete insanity that seems to be surrounding Ben these days. 

 

The club, Neolution, is full of people. Goths, or punks, or cyberpunks, or… something. There are strange colored contact lenses, piercings and tattoos, other body modifications - there’s one guy who seems to have plastic sewn into his flesh, providing a sort of window into mutilated flesh. 

 

This is not the kind of place Jerome would be if he wasn’t such a fucking idiot when it comes to Ben Childs. 

 

Ben’s been off since the school year started - at first he seemed to be freezing Jerome out, but then he started acting impulsively and wanted pot or something to get him off his face rather than Adderall to keep on top of things. All affection for Pippa seems to have completely disappeared, but he’s still stubbornly carrying on even though it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that he just doesn’t care. 

 

Then there was that party where Ben sounded almost… French and was acting completely ridiculous. Dragging Pippa in a guest bedroom and enthusiastically fucking her so everyone could hear. Throwing a party at his apartment and refusing to let Jerome in. Then showing up at his apartment and just… distracting him with sex, sex that was still fantastic but felt desperate and raw in a way that Ben had never felt before. 

 

Ben had always been so controlled, even when he was high off his ass. Not since summer. Since summer he’s been wild and unpredictable and it’s just not right. 

 

New Year’s had made things even weirder - a long-haired version of Ben, with a thick Russian accent and red-rimmed, dangerous looking eyes. It had been the first time Jerome had ever felt unsafe with Ben and… he’s absolutely convinced it wasn’t Ben. 

 

Does he know Ben Childs at all?

 

A woman approaches him. She’s dressed in black, covered in piercings and tattoos and thick makeup. “You Jerome?” she says quietly. 

 

“I’m looking for Magnet,” he replies. “I’m supposed to see him.”

 

The woman’s mouth quirks up into a half-smile. “I’m Magnet.”

 

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry.”

 

He follows her into what looks like a small office. There’s a small desk, covered in strange implements. She follows his gaze, smirks and puts her finger into a pile of paperclips. 

 

They stick to her hand. 

 

“Subdermal magnets,” she says with confidence. “I had them implanted. Cool, huh?”

 

“Thus the name,” Jerome replies. 

 

Magnet looks straight at him. “I owe Boxer a favor, so I’ll answer your questions,” she says firmly. “But you’re not the kind of person who belongs here, so if I were you I’d ask my questions and forget you were ever here.”

 

“Alright,” he replies. 

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Two things,” says Jerome, trying to sound more confident than he is. “First: drugs that completely change people’s personalities. Anything new on the market?”

 

Magnet raises a thin black brow. “Nothing I know of,” she says. “And I know. Trust me, I know. Only the same old things these days - sure, people give it different names, but it’s just packaging. Quoth the Bible: there is nothing new under the sun.”

 

Jerome’s not here for fucking Sunday School. “Alright then,” he says, trying not to sound too irritated. “Second: people who look completely identical. I’m not talking twins, I’m talking… fucking doppelgangers.”

 

Magnet’s playing with a pen but drops it at Jerome’s words. Her face curves into a sly smile. “My my my,” she purrs. “I think someone found Phanes.”

 

“Phanes,” Jerome repeats. “You mean like the Greek god? Deity of new life and creation, hatched from a cosmic egg, that Phanes?”

 

Magnet looks delighted. “You know your mythology,” she says with a proper smile. “That’s what they’re named after, these Phanes boys. They’d be about your age now. Tall, thin, angular and identical. Completely identical, down to the little patch of brown in one of their blue eyes.”

 

Jerome’s heart is beating too fast. Far too fast. 

 

Because that describes Ben pretty much exactly. 

 

“What do you mean identical?” Jerome demands. “Are you telling me they’re… fuck, are you telling me there are a bunch of identical teenage boys running around?”

 

Magnet tilts her head a little. “Neolution’s got its roots in something deep, my boy. Something deep and a little twisted, not too far away from the human heart. They wanted to play God. They wanted to create. So they made the Phanes boys, way back in the good old year 2000. Not quite cosmic eggs, but close enough - IVF, surrogates. And all around the world, the Phanes boys grew up, each one of a carbon copy of the other. There must be hundreds of them.” She smirks. “Of course, the world is big, and people don’t want to believe the truly bizarre. They don’t know. Not unless you find two in the same place.”

 

“You’re talking about human cloning,” Jerome concludes. His head is spinning. “You’re telling me that my…” He trails off. 

 

Magnet’s face breaks into a full grin. “You fell in love with one,” she says, almost laughing. “Oh, you poor child. You’re destined for heartbreak. They’re broken, those boys. There’s something not right about them. The roots aren’t deep enough to cut through to the molten heart of the earth. They’re not deep enough to take the place of any deity. When man plays God, man loses. Every time. Those Phanes boys are ticking time bombs and when they implode, they’ll leave a black hole that’ll swallow you up.” She leans in closer to Jerome. “Run while you have a chance, kid. Just run.”

 

* * *

 

Connor wakes up in the morning with a rock in his stomach, because today he’s going to have to face August. He’s going to have to meet up with his fucking killer clone. 

 

When the fuck did his life get so fucking sci-fi? The answer to that is obvious: the day he died. Clearly. 

 

He half considers going back to sleep, but instead gets up and makes some coffee. He spends half an hour trying to compose a text to Jerome, trying to figure out exactly what to say, trying to figure out if there’s a way to keep him safe. 

 

Fuck August for finding a weak spot. And shame on Connor for not realizing that Jerome was a weak spot until he was threatened. 

 

Also shame on Connor for letting Jerome be a weak spot in the first place, because… 

 

Well…

 

Jerome doesn’t give a fuck about Connor Murphy. 

 

Jerome doesn’t even know Connor Murphy exists. 

 

The person Jerome cares about doesn’t exist anymore. Took himself out of existence deliberately, while Connor watched and didn’t fucking do anything about it.

 

If Jerome knew the truth, he’d probably think Connor had just flat out murdered Ben and taken over his identity. Like he was running some grand scam. 

 

None of this was planned. Connor feels like people who commit identity fraud usually have a much idea of what the fuck they’re doing. 

 

He’s still puzzling over what the fuck he could possibly say to somehow let Jerome know to be fucking careful today without making it massively obvious that there might be a crazy killer clone on the loose when his clone phone rings. 

 

It’s Torpedo.

 

“What’s up?” Connor says, his voice still scratchy. 

 

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” comes Torpedo’s voice. It’s faster than usual - like he’s been mainlining caffeine for hours. Which, quite frankly, is probably the case. “I’m sorry, I’ve been up all night but I found something you need to know.”

 

“Uh, okay,” Connor says, not sure what else to say. “You should probably sleep, dude.”

 

“You gotta hear this,” Torpedo insists. “So I’ve been going through that info from DYAD, right?”

 

“Yeah. The stuff that Guy brought over?”

 

Thinking about Guy is still super confusing. On one hand, he’d been a massive pain in the ass the entire time Connor had known him. On the other hand, he probably didn’t deserve to be shot in the head. 

 

“Yeah,” Torpedo confirms. “Okay, so there’s a full list of all the clones, right? I haven’t completely cracked it yet but… fuck, there are hundreds of us worldwide. Hundreds. Isn’t that trippy?”

 

“That’s… a lot,” Connor admits. “Is that what I need to know?”

 

“I’m getting there,” Torpedo says hurriedly. “So there’s a list of clones, but there’s also a list of surrogates - as in, women with uteruses who, like, grew babies for DYAD. Most of us were IVF babies and the mom didn’t necessarily know she was growing a clone baby, but some were, like, paid. Like August and his twin. Right? Anyway, I looked through the list of the surrogates and found something you should know.”

 

“Why would I need to know that?”

 

“Connor, your mom’s not on that list.”

 

Connor blinks. “Wait, what?”

 

“Your mom’s not listed as a surrogate,” Torpedo repeats. “But you’re obviously a clone, that much is obvious. But your mom never carried a clone baby. Which means that you have to be adopted.”

 

Connor doesn’t even know where to begin processing that. He sits down at the kitchen table and takes a deep breath. “They never told me,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “They never told me I was adopted.” He takes in a deep breath. “I mean, I guess that once I figured out about the clones I figured that we weren’t, like, blood relations, but that means that my parents, like, knew I wasn’t biologically theirs the whole time.” He snorts. “Could be why my dad fucking hated me.”

 

“I dug a little deeper,” Torpedo says, clearly on a roll. “Found a name of a surrogate who carried twins. Anthea Torres. Disappeared before the babies were born, eventually recovered in February 2000, having given birth. She had one of the babies with her, the other one is still listed as missing. The baby they recovered was adopted out by DYAD.” Torpedo takes in a deep breath. “That was _you,_ dude. They gave that baby to Larry and Cynthia Murphy, it’s right here in the files. That story Seamus told you about the twins? That’s you and that’s August.”

 

Connor nearly drops his phone. 

 

What. 

 

What the actual fuck. 

 

“You think I’m…”

 

“I don’t think it, I know it,” Torpedo insists. “It’s right here in the files. I can send them to you. You need to talk to Seamus, he needs to know that you’re the missing twin that went to DYAD. He’s, like, your dad. He wanted to be your dad.”

 

“Stop.”

 

“Connor, this is-”

 

“I said stop.” There’s silence on the other end of the line. Connor takes a deep breath. “I have to go,” he says suddenly and ends the call. 

 

Torpedo calls back twice and Connor doesn’t pick up the phone. 

 

He puts his head on his hands on the kitchen table and tries to get his breathing under control. 

 

He feels like he’s drowning. 

 

He feels like he’s fucking drowning. 

 

Twins. 

 

He’s got a twin brother. 

 

A twin brother who tried to kill him. 

 

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any more fucked up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	42. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas gets the news.

Lucas pulls a dusty suitcase out of the top of the linen closet and throws it on the bed as hard as he can manage. It doesn’t make him feel any better at all. 

 

“Don’t freak out,” he mutters to himself as he starts throwing as many of his belongings as he can find into the suitcase. “Fucker tells me not to freak out and then drops a fucking bomb on me.”

 

He should never have answered the phone. 

 

He should never have answered his fucking phone. 

 

It had seemed like a pretty normal day. He’d just gotten back from a class and was about to grab lunch before a mid-afternoon lecture when his fucking clone phone rang. He answered it, like an idiot, and Connor very bluntly told him what Evan had discovered the previous day at DYAD. 

 

At first, he’d thought it was some kind of sick joke. 

 

“Very fucking funny,” he’d said to Connor, rolling his eyes. “You’re fucking hilarious.”

 

“You honestly think I’m fucking with you?” Connor had replied, disbelieving. “Even I’m not that much of an asshole. DYAD told Evan that your fiancee is your monitor and she’s been reporting you’ve been having more headaches than normal. It’s the beginning of the clone illness, Lucas. I’m really sorry, man, but you need to know.”

 

“Donna can’t be my monitor,” Lucas replied stubbornly. “She just can’t. We’re… I asked her to marry me and she said yes. If she’s just in my life because of some freaking science experiment, then why…”

 

Then Lucas thought about her telling her brother that it was too early for them to get married. 

 

Maybe she hadn’t wanted to say yes.

 

“Just because she’s your monitor doesn’t mean your relationship isn’t real,” Connor insisted, his voice weary. “There are plenty of monitors who don’t know what the experiment is really about. They’re targeted by DYAD because they’re close to us, not forced to get close. That’s how it works. DYAD approached Evan because he was already friends with Reed.” 

 

“She’s monitoring me,” Lucas repeated, not really hearing what his clone was saying. “She’s been monitoring me this whole fucking time. Torpedo was right. You were right. You all told me my monitor had to be Donna and I was so… I was so fucking blind by the way I felt about her that I ignored it.”

 

“That’s not what you should be focusing on here,” Connor said urgently. “You should be focusing on your health. You’ve been getting headaches? Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“Because they’re just headaches,” Lucas snapped. He felt like he was about to explode. He felt like his heart was breaking. He felt like there was a giant hand, squeezing at his chest, and that everything inside him was about to come crumbling down, and all he wanted to do was scream and yell and cry and throw things. “I can handle fucking headaches.”

 

“They’re the first symptom,” Connor insisted. He definitely sounds freaked out. “I think you need to cut Donna a break here, dude - you’re going to need her if you’re really-”

 

“I’m coming to New York.”

 

“Lucas-”

 

“I’m packing my bag and I’m heading to yours, okay? I can’t be here right now.”

 

“Okay, okay, fine, you’re coming to mine. Just… don’t do anything fucking stupid, okay?”

 

Lucas had thrown his phone across the room and cracked the screen. 

 

Then he’d tried to remember where they kept the suitcases they’d bought that time they went to Hawaii sophomore year. 

 

He’s still throwing clothes and other bits and pieces into his suitcase when he hears the door open. Every inch of his body tenses up. 

 

He’s not ready for this. 

 

He can’t have this discussion right now. 

 

“Babe? You around? I thought you had an afternoon class today.” Donna comes into the room, long red hair flowing around her shoulders. She’s as beautiful as ever and it makes Lucas’s heart break. Her smile fades as she sees the suitcase. “Lucas, what’s going on?”

 

“Going out of town for a few days,” he replies, trying not to scream. Trying not to yell and scream and beg her to explain herself, because if she knows he knows about DYAD then he’s going to get dragged away and locked up and experimented on or some shit and… 

 

“What’s going on?” she asks, sounding genuinely concerned. “Is everything okay? Is it Nana P?”

 

“It’s not Nana P,” he snaps. “I just need some time to myself, it’s not a big deal.”

 

Donna frowns. “I think it’s a pretty big deal if my fiance is just… skipping town for a few days and won’t tell me why. Lucas, tell me what’s wrong?”

 

“Do you love me?”

 

Lucas doesn’t mean to ask that. 

 

He doesn’t mean to ask that at all.

 

“Of course I love you,” Donna says, looking truly frightened now. “Lucas, what’s wrong? Whatever it is, don’t shut me out, I can help-”

 

“I can’t talk to you about this right now.” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out, trying to keep himself calm. “I’m… look, I’ll call you when I’m heading back, I just need to get away for a while.” He shuts his suitcase and heads for the door, only for Donna to physically block him. 

 

“Hey,” she says, her voice urgent. “No. You don’t just run off. You tell me what’s wrong, okay? Tell me what’s happening. You’re scaring the shit out of me, this isn’t you-”

 

“How do you know what is and isn’t me, Donna?”

 

“Because I’ve known you since we were freshmen in high school,” she replies passionately. “Because I know you better than anyone and you’re… you’re not acting like yourself. You don’t just run off. Talk to me. We’re a team. I can help.”

 

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “I’m fine, I’m just… okay, look, I just found out something that I need to get my head around and I need to be away from you to do it, okay? Don’t ask me why, please don’t ask me why. Just… I promise I’ll be back, I just need to… I need to go.”

 

He pushes past her as gently as he can, heads outside and throws his suitcase in his car. Donna’s standing in the doorway of their apartment, looking close to tears, and Lucas hates that she’s upset, but doesn’t know what else he can say. He resolves to text her with some kind of excuse as soon as he gets to Connor’s. 

 

He just can’t be here right now. 

 

* * *

 

As soon as Lucas ends the call, Connor calls Evan. He answers straight away.

 

“Lucas is freaking out,” Connor informs his boyfriend. “He’s really freaking out.”

 

“About the illness?” Evan asks. Connor hears him shut a door behind him. 

 

“About Donna.”

 

Evan sighs. “Shit. Okay. We thought this might happen. You were, like, gentle when you told him though, right?”

 

“As gentle as I can manage,” Connor confesses. “He’s just… he’s crazy about her and the idea that she’d betray him like that…”

 

“I got my hands on her file,” Evan says, his voice hushed. “Turns out I’ve got the clearance, so I had a read through. Donna’s only been on the study since her freshman year of college but they’ve been together since high school. She thinks she’s doing a sociology study on adults who were IVF babies and their development into adulthood. They’re paying her for the study and she’s said in meetings with her DYAD contact that she’s been saving all the money they pay her for the study so she can buy her dream wedding dress.” Evan sighs. “I’m pretty sure she actually loves him, Con. I don’t think she knows what she’s really doing.”

 

“Shit.” Connor sighs. “He’s coming here. Lucas is heading here and I’ll hopefully be able to talk some sense into him. It’s… it’s a lot to deal with, knowing that there’s someone watching your every move.”

 

“Is there anything else I can do?” Evan asks. “Do you want me to come to the city? I can talk to him. Tell him what I know about the study, help him understand that she’s not-”

 

“I think this has to be a clone thing,” Connor interrupts. “I feel like seeing you is just going to send him off the rails.”

 

“Oh. Okay.” Evan sounds… a little hurt. Connor winces. Fuck. He didn’t mean to upset him.

 

“It’s just that as far as he’s concerned, you’re DYAD,” Connor tries to explain. “And they’re the ones who are spying on him, and… yeah, he’s not going to want to see you.”

 

“You know I’m on your side, right?” Evan says, still sounding a little hurt. “I get that you don’t trust DYAD, but… you can trust me. I’m telling you everything I find out. Even the stuff you might not want to hear.”

 

“I know you are,” Connor says, rubbing his face in frustration. “I know you’re telling us everything, and we really appreciate that, it’s just that… this is our lives, you know? We’re lab rats, and you’re part of the science, and… you understand why it’s hard, don’t you?”

 

Evan’s silent for a long time. Connor thinks that the call might have cut off, and goes to check, but Evan finally speaks up. “I’m doing this for you.”

 

Connor feels his heart tighten. “I know you are.”

 

“For all of you,” Evan reiterates. “I… I know I’m never going to understand what it is you’re going through, what it’s like to be in your position, but I’m staying with DYAD so you get the information you need. I’m telling you everything I know, I’m doing everything I can to find a cure - I’m going to be with DYAD full time in the new semester, working on the cure.”

 

Connor frowns. “Wait, you’re dropping out of college?”

 

“Independent study,” Evan clarifies. “DYAD organized it. Independent study on genetics. It’ll go toward my degree completion.”

 

“Evan, you’re majoring in environmental biology,” Connor says, trying to keep his voice steady. 

 

This feels wrong. 

 

This is wrong. 

 

“I can double major,” Evan says, his tone deceptively light. “Genetics is interesting, and the work I’m doing here will give me a unique perspective. And it’ll help you. I’ve got that conference in Beijing next week, and I’ll be talking to people from all over the world about the illness, and-”

 

“You’re going to  _ Beijing _ ?” Connor interrupts. He kind of feels like his heart is trying to escape his chest right now. For some stupid reason, this is scaring him. “You never said you were going to China, Evan. That’s… that’s a big deal, DYAD sending you to an international conference. That’s a huge deal. You’re just… you’re a junior in college, Evan, they’re… this doesn’t feel right.”

 

“It’s a good thing,” Evan insists. “They’re starting to trust me. The more they trust me, the more I can find out. The more I can help you.”

 

“These people are dangerous.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Evan snaps. “Connor, I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Evan, I’m serious-”

 

“I can’t lose you again, Connor!”

 

Connor’s stunned. He has absolutely no idea what to say to that. Back in high school, they weren’t… they didn’t… it wasn’t…

 

“Not that I had you back then,” Evan says in a hurry. “I just… you could die. For real. This illness, it could affect you, too, and after everything… after everything you’ve been through, and our lives have been so mixed up in each other’s for so long, and… I can’t lose you to this. Not if there were something I could have done. I owe you this, Connor. I owe you a cure.”

 

“You don’t owe me  _ anything _ ,” says Connor. Slowly. Deliberately. 

 

Willing Evan to understand. 

 

“I owe you everything.”

 

Connor thinks Evan might be crying, and that’s enough to make him want to cry as well. “Evan, no.”

 

“We don’t talk about this much,” says Evan, clearly fighting back tears, “but if it weren’t for you… if it weren’t for the friendship people thought we had in high school, I’d be right back where I was at the beginning of senior year. With this huge wall between me and the rest of the world. Not being able to talk to anyone, not having any friends, completely paralyzed by anxiety and hopelessness and… I know it wasn’t real. I know none of it was real. But it gave me confidence to… connect with people. To make friends. It helped me be seen and heard and… I don’t think I’d be where I am today if it weren’t for you.”

 

“I didn’t do anything,” Connor says gently. “I didn’t do any of that, it was you. You did that work, you made that progress on your own. And even if what you’re saying is true… so what? It doesn’t mean you’re responsible for curing this illness. It doesn’t mean that you have to change your career path, what you’ve been working toward for so long, for me. It doesn’t mean that you put yourself in danger getting more and more involved with this shady organization just to keep passing on information to us.” He takes in a deep breath. “If you wanted to walk away from DYAD tomorrow, I’d be okay with that. Fuck, I’d be ecstatic. You’ve done enough. You’ve done more than enough.”

 

Another long silence. Connor wishes they were having this conversation face to face, because at least then he could give Evan a hug, or a kiss, and maybe convince him that he doesn’t need to do any of this. Make him realize that he’s playing with fire, and Connor couldn’t bear it if Evan got burned because of him. 

 

“If I walk away now,” Evan says, his voice steadying, “then I can’t help find a cure. I’m not an expert, but at least I’m doing something. I can’t just sit back and watch you die. I can’t. I’m sorry, I’m not strong enough to deal with that.”

 

“I don’t want to die either,” Connor confesses. “But I’m scared for you.”

 

“I know what I’m doing.”

 

Connor doesn’t want to argue. He really doesn’t. Still, he can’t help thinking it. 

 

_ Do you? Do you really?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	43. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August and Connor do lunch.

Twins. 

 

Twins. 

 

Fucking twins. 

 

That’s all Connor can think about as he makes his way to the diner. 

 

He’s still not sure what he’s going to say to August. He doesn’t even know where to start. 

 

He’s still at least eighty-five percent sure he’s walking to his death and he doesn’t really know how he feels about that, either. 

 

Connor’s general feelings about death as a concept seem to fluctuate wildly from day to day. 

 

He approaches the diner and feels a hand grab his arm tightly. Tight enough to hurt. 

 

He spins around and he’s face to face with August. 

 

“You are here,” says August in that raspy Ukrainian accent. “Good. We talk. But first, we eat.”

 

Connor shrugs off August’s hand and follows him into the diner. The woman at the counter does a double-take, then directs them to a booth near a wall. August slides into a seat and immediately starts looking at the menu, hunched over it with his nose almost pressed against the cardboard. He looks… starving, if Connor’s brutally honest. 

 

He takes a seat across from August and tries to avoid looking at his clone. 

 

But he can’t help himself. 

 

August’s hair is long, almost longer than Connor’s was before he had to cut it to be Ben. Connor had never been particularly good at taking care of his hair and it was usually a knotty, matted mess, but August’s hair makes Connor’s look like a shampoo commercial. His eyes are red-rimmed and his skin is so pale he looks bruised all over. 

 

Connor’s reminded of a feral cat when he looks at August. 

 

He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. 

 

Is he feeling disgust? Guilt? Shame? Fear? He doesn’t know. 

 

This isn’t just another clone. 

 

August isn’t just another clone. 

 

Connor wishes, not for the first time, that he didn’t know that. 

 

“This is a nice restaurant,” August says, his tone almost conversational. “The food is looking very good.”

 

“Sure,” Connor replies with a roll of his eyes. “Five stars.”

 

The waitress comes over, looking bored. “What can I get you, boys?”

 

“I would like the french fries,” says August enthusiastically. “And sausage, egg and some breads. And also the ice creams.” 

 

The waitress has stopped looking bored and has moved on to confused. “Do you want that all together or should I bring the ice cream out separately?”

 

“All of the foods,” August insists. “I am growing.”

 

She still doesn’t look like she’s got any idea of what to make of August, but turns to Connor. “And for you?”

 

“Coffee, please,” Connor says, as quickly as he can. 

 

“I will also have the coffee,” August pipes up. “With much sugar.”

 

“There’s sugar on the table,” the waitress says. “I’ll get that all sorted for you now.”

 

August rips open a sugar packet and pours it directly into his mouth as the waitress leaves. Connor tries not to grimace. 

 

August swallows, then looks at Connor, his expression calculating. “You have names for me?”

 

“Let’s just eat first,” Connor says, trying not to sound nervous. “Get to know each other a little.”

 

August laughs. It’s extremely unsettling. He looks young when he does it, and it loosens his entire tight, pinched face. “You want to know me?” he asks, sounding terribly amused. “You want I do not kill you, you want to talk?”

 

“Honestly? Yeah. That’s pretty much it.”

 

“Not much to say,” August says, ripping open another packet of sugar. “I grew up in monastery. Abandoned as baby. Fathers protect me at first, then let me leave to fulfill holy purpose.” He downs another sugar packet and then grins wolfishly. Connor feels himself recoil. “Holy purpose to destroy abominations.”

 

“If I’m really an abomination, then why are you having lunch with me?” Connor asks, despite himself. “Why not just kill me and get it over with?”

 

August tilts his head. “You are strange one. You do not know if you fear death. I think you are very broken. Broken abomination. Unknown and strange.”

 

Fuck, Connor can’t help but agree with his clone on that one. He’s definitely always felt that way. 

 

Broken. Unknown. Strange. 

 

The waitress delivers the coffee and the food, and August practically inhales the eggs and sausage. It’s kind of disgusting watching him eat, and more than a little sad. 

 

“Also, I am very hungry,” August confesses through a mouthful of bread. “I must have energy for holy mission.”

 

“So you think God wants you to kill everyone with your face,” Connor says, still trying to get his head around this. And trying to keep August here as long as he can, because the longer he’s here, the more time Seamus and his people have to get into position. 

 

They’re going to follow August back to wherever he’s hiding and figure out what happens from there. Once they’ve got his location, they’ll be able to extract him. 

 

That’s the plan, anyway. Seamus is convinced August isn’t working alone. 

 

Connor’s supposed to get as much information as he can. 

 

“It is the mission from God,” August says, still shoveling french fries into his mouth. “Destroy abominations so I can embrace the light. I will go to heaven one day, I will be pure and holy.” He looks straight at Connor, chewing with his mouth wide open. 

 

“God talks to you?” Connor asks, trying to pick up his coffee cup but unable to control his shaking hands. 

 

August turns a little pale. “Tatiana says I am too far from His light to hear His voice,” he says, sounding a little sad. “But sometimes I hear. He tells me about the light, and He shows me the way. He tells me there is a light in you. I think. I do not know, so I must find out.” He leans in and stares Connor down. “Do you feel God’s light, not-Ben Childs? Or are you with the devil?”

 

Connor blinks. “I don’t fucking know, dude.”

 

“I do not know either,” August confesses. “But I feel a connection. Do you feel it?”

 

“Yes,” Connor blurts out, without meaning to. “Yes, we’re connected. We… we were supposed to grow up together, August.” 

 

August stares at him. He’s almost frozen. “I was abandoned,” he says stubbornly. “Abandoned to the hands of God. No one wanted me. If not for God, I will be dead. Useless and full of sin. They saved me.”

 

Connor doesn’t know if it’s going to help, but he somehow can’t stop himself from telling August the story. “We should have been brothers, August. We’re brothers. Not just clones, but twins. We were born just minutes apart, from the same mother. Our mother escaped from DYAD, she wanted to raise us away from the experiment. She met a man and fell in love and… they wanted us to be theirs. They wanted it so much, and… they were separated, I was taken by DYAD, and the man who would have been your dad, who wanted to be your dad… he wanted to keep you safe, so he gave you to the church. To hide you. DYAD wouldn’t have stopped looking for you. He didn’t abandon you because he didn’t want you, August. He did it to keep you safe.”

 

August moves in a sharp, quick motion, and before Connor can do anything, he feels the cold sting of a blade against his upper thigh. 

 

“Femoral artery,” says August, his voice dark and dangerous. “If I cut, you will bleed and you will die quickly. I will cut if you lie to me again.”

 

“I’m not lying,” Connor replies quickly. 

 

“Give me a name. Or I kill you now, then kill Handsome Man.”

 

“He has nothing to do with this,” Connor insists. He’s not going to think too hard about why August insists on calling Jerome Handsome Man, but he has to admit the name kind of fits. “He doesn’t know anything. I want to keep him away from all of this. Keep him safe.”

 

“Give me a name,” August repeats, pressing the knife in enough to pierce Connor’s jeans.

 

“Connor Murphy.”

 

August pulls the knife away and looks at Connor quizzically. “He is sheep. He is another one? Where is he? How do I find him?”

 

“He’s me,” Connor admits, trying to keep his heart rate under control. “That’s who I really am. Ben’s… Ben’s gone. He’s already gone.”

 

“And you are now him,” says August, his voice curious. “You take his life. You wear his clothes. You are a good liar.”

 

“I’m not,” Connor replies quietly. “I’m really not.”

 

“If what you say is true,” August says, his voice hesitant, “if we are truly brothers, then I cannot kill you. I will pray. God will reveal the truth to me. If we are brothers, you can join me in holy crusade. I will cast out your demons for you.” August starts eating his ice cream, which by this point is pretty much melted. “The demons are strong,” he confesses, ice cream dribbling down his chin. “But we are strong, too. If we are the same.”

 

“I don’t want to join your holy crusade,” Connor says in disgust.

 

August smiles. “If we are brothers, you are chosen by God also. I will pray for visions. He will show me the way.”

 

August slams a five dollar bill on the table, then downs his coffee in one fell swoop and stands up. “Here is money,” he announces. “For the foods.” He fumbles in his pocket and gives Connor a piece of paper. “Here is number. But be careful. I believe you have light, but others may not. Call if you want to join holy crusade. I will search for more abominations.”

 

“Don’t,” Connor says urgently. “Not yet. Don’t search yet. Just… give me some time to think about it, okay?”

 

August tilts his head. “Another 48 hours,” he says firmly. “This is how long I will be here in the New York. Then we hunt. We hunt and we kill.” He leans in and gets right up in Connor’s face. Connor tries not to recoil. August smells of bleach and death. “Keep the light,” he whispers, before leaving the diner. 

 

Connor lets out a deep breath and leans back in the booth. He’s shaking. He’s shaking all over. It takes a few tries, but he finally manages to pick up his cup of coffee and take a sip, hoping it’ll calm his nerves a bit. 

 

It’s bitter. It needs sugar. 

 

Connor looks at the table and realizes August took all the sugar packets when he left.

 

He thinks about going to another table to get the more sugar packets but doesn’t think his legs can carry him. 

 

He takes a sip of his coffee and someone slips into the booth across from him. 

 

It’s Jerome. 

 

Connor’s heart stops. 

 

“Hey Ben,” Jerome says, his tone deceptively light. “Oh no, wait - Connor, right? Not Ben. You said it yourself - Ben’s gone.”

 

“Jerome, what the fuck?” he says, trying to laugh or… something. 

 

This isn’t happening. 

 

This isn’t fucking happening. 

 

This absolutely, one hundred percent, cannot be happening. 

 

“You said Ben’s gone,” Jerome repeats, steel in his voice. “I want to know what the fuck that means. Where is he? What the fuck did you do?”

 

“Come on, man,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “You’re acting crazy. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I know about Phanes.”

 

It takes everything Connor has not to start fucking hyperventilating right there. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re-”

 

“Stop lying to me,” Jerome hisses.

 

“Jerome-”

 

“Stop. Lying.”

 

His voice has gotten a bit too loud. People are looking at them. 

 

Connor’s so fucking sick of this place. “Alright,” he says quietly. “But not here. I can’t stay here, I…” he takes in a deep breath, fishes around in his pocket and leaves a wad of cash on the table. “Let’s go. Back to my place.”

 

“Back to Ben’s place, you mean,” Jerome snaps.

 

“Fine. Yes. Okay. Back to Ben’s place.”

 

The cab ride is short and tense. They get up to Ben’s apartment and Jerome stands there, stone-faced as Connor’s hands shake as he tries to unlock the door. After a few moments, Jerome just takes the keys and pushes Connor out of the way. “You’re using the wrong one,” Jerome mutters. “Jesus fucking Christ, how have you gotten away with this for so long.”

 

“Beats me,” Connor mutters back as they enter. He shuts the door behind them and Jerome spins around, his eyes burning with what looks like genuine hate. 

 

“Where. Is. Ben?”

 

“He’s dead,” Connor admits. 

 

Jerome clenches his jaw. “You killed him.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “No. No, he killed himself. He came to my hometown, and he killed himself in front of me, and… I couldn’t stop him. But he told me to go to New York and be him and I…”

 

He stops himself before he can admit the rest. 

 

There’s a stupid part of him that doesn’t want Jerome to know he was planning on killing himself that day. 

 

He doesn’t know why. It’s not like that information could make Jerome hate him any more.

 

“When?” Jerome asks. 

 

“Before senior year started,” Connor confesses. “I… my family think I’m dead, they think it’s my body in the park, and I… he died in my hometown and if I’d still been around when they found his body, it would have been… it would have been a fucking disaster, it would have exposed this whole thing and… I had to. I had to be Ben. I had no choice, I didn’t ask for any of this.”

 

“How many of you are there?” 

 

Connor shrugs. “I don’t know for sure,” he ventures, “but… more than just Ben and I. And the one you… the other one from the diner. I’m guessing you saw him.”

 

“He wanted to kill you,” Jerome says bluntly. “And he wanted to kill someone else as well.”

 

Connor blinks. “Yeah, he was planning on killing you,” he snaps. “The idea doesn’t exactly thrill me.”

 

Jerome kind of stares at him for a minute then looks like something’s clicked in his mind. “He was the one at the New Year’s Eve party,” he says. “What about the other party? That definitely wasn’t you. You’re… you’re _almost_ convincing as Ben. Almost. But that other party, whoever was there really wasn’t.”

 

“That was another one,” says Connor wearily. “The one from the diner… he killed him. In front of me. It’s… this is a fucked up and dangerous situation and you don’t want to be part of it, Jerome. Honestly. You’re a good guy and you need to stay out of this whole thing.” He sighs deeply. “Just go home and pretend you don’t know any of this.”

 

“Ben killed himself,” Jerome says, almost to himself. “I should have… I should have known he was…”

 

“He made up his mind.” Connor tries to keep his words gentle because it’s not Jerome’s fault. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

 

“I think I loved him,” Jerome blurts out. 

 

Connor feels that like a knife to the gut. “I figured.”

 

“This… this clone shit is what killed him, isn’t it?” Jerome says firmly. “Knowing all of this… he was messed up enough already, this sent him over the edge.”

 

“Yes,” Connor says simply, because it’s probably true. “So you should just walk away. I’ll leave you alone at school, we’ll just… we’ll go our separate ways, and we’ll…”

 

Fuck. That hurts more than it should. Fuck. 

 

Jerome doesn’t owe Connor Murphy anything. 

 

“Connor,” Jerome says. It’s like he’s trying the word out, trying to taste how it feels in his mouth. “Connor Murphy. You’re… your family thinks you’re dead, and Ben’s parents are the worst, so you’re just… alone in this apartment, trying to impersonate someone you don’t know, while dealing with a fucked up clone conspiracy, and someone with your face who’s trying to kill you. Shit. Fucking shit, dude, how are you… fuck.”

 

“That about covers it,” Connor says, a little wryly. “It’s not your fight, Jerome. I’m… I’m so sorry you lost Ben, and I’m sorry I’m not him, and I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this all, I’m just… I’m so sorry. You’re a good man and you don’t deserve this.”

 

“I don’t think you deserve this either,” Jerome says frankly. That makes Connor’s heart skip a little. “Ever since September, it’s been you, right? When it’s just been us, it’s been you. Connor. Not one of the others?”

 

“Yeah, it’s been me.”

 

Jerome nods. “Okay.” He goes to the door. “I need some time to think about this,” he says quietly. “But… I want to help.”

 

Connor’s eyes widen. “No.”

 

“If this killed Ben, I-”

 

“No,” Connor says, more forcefully. “No, you’re staying out of this. You’re staying far away from this. I… I’m not getting anyone else killed, least of all you.”

 

Jerome just kind of looks at him for a little bit. Then he smiles sadly. “You look just like him. You sound just like him.”

 

Then he crosses the room and kisses Connor softly. When they break apart, all Connor can do is stare.

 

“That part’s a little different,” Jerome admits, “but… not in a bad way.”

 

Then Jerome leaves, and Connor has absolutely no idea what to do next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	44. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas wallows, and Connor takes action.

Connor’s had Lucas staying on his couch for a week. 

 

He’s very, very proud of himself that they haven’t managed to kill each other yet. 

 

Connor’s been doing a short course over the winter break so has been out of the apartment most days, but has come back to some pretty weird shit. 

 

On the first day, Lucas had genuinely cleaned the entire apartment, top to bottom, and had ranted to Connor for at least an hour when he got home about how he was a grown adult and shouldn’t be living like this. 

 

Connor had genuinely not expected this, seeing that Lucas grew up in a house with a goddamned maid, but apparently his clone’s a neat freak in his own right. Who’d have thought?

 

He’d kind of wanted to make some kind of crack about how Donna had him well-trained because it seems like the kind of weird heteronormative bullshit joke a guy like Lucas would appreciate, but decided against it, for the simple reason that Lucas clearly didn’t want to talk about his fiancee right now. 

 

Then there was the realization that Lucas stress-bakes. Connor had no fucking clue that Lucas stress-baked, but pretty soon his kitchen was literally full of baked goods, from brownies to cookies, cakes to soft pretzels… Connor has no fucking clue what to do with any of this shit, so he started bringing boxes of it into class with him, because Lucas showed no sign of stopping. 

 

Until he stopped baking on about day six, and just sat on the couch for hours on end and watched reality TV, which Connor honestly had no idea how to feel about. On one hand, at least he’s not cleaning or baking. On the other hand, when Lucas was cleaning or baking, he didn’t seem quite as sad, and it’s really disconcerting to see his clone quietly sobbing on the couch during particularly emotional moments of whatever ridiculous thing he’s currently swept up in. 

 

On day seven, Connor decides something must be done, and comes home with a truly ridiculous amount of margarita mix and tequila. 

 

“I’m getting you drunk,” Connor announces as he walks through the door. “Here’s the plan: you get drunk, you process your emotions, you yell a bit, if you’re really angry I’ll let you punch me exactly once. We’ll go through a whole journey and then when Monday rolls around, you and the remaining seven cakes in my kitchen are going home.”

 

Lucas takes the bottle of tequila from the bag in Connor’s hand, opens it and takes a swig straight from the bottle. Connor sighs. 

 

“Right, so that’s how we’re doing this,” he mutters, then opens a second bottle of tequila and goes looking for his shot-glasses. (He’s got a bunch of really stupid ones with dumb sayings on them, because he finds them just stupid enough to be kind of hilarious. They’re on a shelf above his microwave and sees that Lucas has organized them by alphabetical order.)

 

They’re each half a bottle of tequila in when Lucas starts absolutely spilling his guts. 

 

“I can’t believe she’s been lying to me for so long,” he slurs, curling up on the couch. “The whole time. She’s been a spy the whole time!”

 

“That’s not actually true,” Connor points out. “I tried to tell you - Evan looked at her file, and she’s only been part of the study since you guys started college.”

 

“My dad said she was a terrible choice for a trophy wife,” says Lucas, wildly gesturing with the bottle. “He actually said those words. A trophy wife. Like a human person is something you show off at parties, oh my fucking god. I always said to myself that when I fell in love, it was going to be real, you know? And then I find out she’s a spy. She’s a spy and it was a lie.” Lucas giggles. “Spy and lie. They rhyme. That’s funny.”

 

“Holy shit,” Connor mutters, before taking another shot of tequila. He’s too sober for this conversation. “Lucas, I’m serious - Evan looked at her file. She thinks she’s doing a study about IVF babies, she doesn’t know any of what’s really happening. It sucks, but it’s not like she’s intentionally betraying you or anything.” He points at Lucas accusingly. “I think you need to go back and talk to her. She’s gotta be freaking out.”

 

“She’s probably just annoyed she doesn’t have anything to report,” Lucas says gloomily. “Bet I’m messing up her entire spy thing.” He has another drink. “Her name probably isn’t even Donna. She’s probably a completely different person. She probably wears leather and drinks martinis and is actually Russian.” He glares at Connor. “She’s probably Russian, Con.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“I don’t speak Russian.”

 

“She’s not fucking Russian, dude,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “She’s totally normal. She’s just… she’s fucking normal, dude. You forget that I’ve actually met her - she’s sweet and she’s got a good sense of humor and she’s crazy about you.” He rolls his eyes again. “That time I was you back in high school at the family dinner, I genuinely had to fake a cold to stop her from kissing me, it was gross.”

 

“I can’t believe you kissed my fiancee,” Lucas grumbles. 

 

“Me neither,” Connor says firmly. “If I never have to kiss another woman again in my life, it’ll be too soon. Jesus fuck am I gay.” He looks at Lucas pointedly. “Even so, I can safely say that Donna really, really fucking cares about you, dude. She’s not trying to fuck you over. It’s DYAD. They’re using her. It’s not her fault.”

 

“So Evan says,” Lucas points out. “He’s, like, in the thick of it now. How do you know what he’s saying about this is true?”

 

Connor doesn’t even have to think about his answer. “Because I know Evan.”

 

Lucas snorts. “Because of the power of looooooooooove?” He laughs, and then bursts into tears, and then has another drink. 

 

“Okay,” Connor says decisively. “I'm ordering pizza. Do you want pizza? I want pizza. Pepperoni?”

 

“Pepperoni is Donna’s favorite!” Lucas sobs. 

 

“Okay, so something else.”

 

“I don’t want olives.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Or peppers.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Mushrooms make me think of Donna,” says Lucas dramatically. 

 

“How, exactly?”

 

“Last year on Valentine’s Day, she told me that I grew on her like a mushroom on a sock,” Lucas says, grabbing a couch cushion and holding it to his chest. “I’m her mushroom.”

 

“And they say romance is dead.” Connor sighs. “I’m getting plain cheese.”

 

Connor goes into the other room to call for a pizza. Once he’s ordered, his clone phone rings. It’s Evan, and he answers straight away.

 

“Aren’t you in Beijing?” Connor asks as soon as the call connects. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Evan says, his voice low, as though he doesn’t want to be overheard. “It’s just that… Lucas is with you, right?”

 

“He is,” Connor confirms. “We’re drinking. He just said something weird about mushrooms.”

 

“Donna’s told DYAD that Lucas left a week ago and she hasn’t seen him since,” Evan says, his voice urgent. “I think they’re going to send someone after him. You’ve got to get him to call Donna, or you’ve got to call Donna, and make up some excuse and get him back home to her as soon as you can.”

 

“He’s devastated about this,” Connor says gently. “He needs more time.”

 

Evan sighs. “I know. I know that, and I wish he could have it, but… DYAD isn’t going to just let this go, and if they track him to you… this whole thing could come crashing down, Connor. It would be bad for all of you. Just… please, please, please get him home.”

 

“Shit,” Connor says, rubbing his face. “Okay, thanks for the heads up.” He sighs. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Evan says. 

 

Connor can practically hear him frowning over the phone. He sounds tired and sad and Connor’s pissed off at himself that he didn’t get to see him off before his trip because he’d been busy with class and Lucas-sitting. 

 

“How’s Beijing?” Connor asks, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“Hot,” Evan admits. “The conference starts properly on Monday, but I’m settling in over the next few days and meeting some of the other scientists tomorrow night.” He kind of chuckles. “The hotel is pretty fancy. It’s weird. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

 

Connor’s not sure what to say to that, because a part of him is screaming that Evan doesn’t belong there, that he’s getting himself in too deep, that he’s playing a dangerous game that’s going to get him hurt. But he also knows that Evan’s stubborn, and that this isn’t the kind of conversation they can have successfully over the phone. 

 

When he’s back from this trip, he’s sitting Evan down in person and using every trick he has to convince him to take a step back from all things DYAD. 

 

“You’ll be careful, right?” is what Connor says instead of what he’s thinking. 

 

“Always,” Evan promises, and Connor just can’t quite believe him. 

 

“Okay,” Connor says. “I’ve gotta go. Lucas.”

 

“Right, sure.” Evan takes a deep breath, then blurts out his next few words in such a rush that Connor’s not sure he’s hearing them correctly. “Iloveyoubye.”

 

The call disconnects, and Connor looks at his phone for a moment with what he’s sure must be an utterly love-struck expression. 

 

“I love you too,” he says quietly, then heads back into the lounge. 

 

Lucas is snoring into a couch cushion. 

 

The pizza arrives. 

 

Connor eats a plain cheese pizza on the couch next to Lucas and watches three more episodes of The Bachelor before giving up and going to bed. 

 

The next morning, Connor packs up Lucas’s shit, takes his keys and puts all his shit in his car. Then he wakes up his clone, gives him a thermos of coffee and bundles him into the passenger seat. He’s still drunk, and in no shape to argue, which is probably for the best. 

 

Connor puts, like, two of the cakes in the backseat of Lucas’s car, then plugs the address of Lucas and Donna’s apartment into his GPS and just drives. 

 

They’ve been driving for an hour when Lucas wakes up and starts yelling at him. 

 

“What the fuck. What the actual fuck, Connor?”

 

“DYAD thinks you’re missing,” Connor explains patiently. “So you’re going home. You’re going back to Donna, and you’re going to have an honest conversation with her, and tell her that you found out she was doing a study on you and it upset you and you want her to stop doing it. It’ll be as simple as that.”

 

“You’re driving my car, moron,” Lucas snaps. “She’ll see you, and the whole thing will be completely blown.”

 

Okay, so Connor hadn’t actually thought about that. Shit. “Okay, new plan,” says Connor. “I drop you and your shit off at the nearest bus station to your apartment and you call her and get her to pick you up. Say your car got stolen. I’ll drive it back to New York and you can come get it some other time.”

 

“Or you could just turn around and drive us both back to New York. I don’t want to see her.”

 

Connor pulls over to the side of the road and glares at his clone. “Okay, stop. Just stop. I get that you’re hurt, and upset, and you feel betrayed, but you need to ask yourself something right now, and I want you to be deadly honest with me. Do you love her?”

 

Lucas stares at Connor. He’s quiet for a very long moment. Then he kind of deflates. “I’ve never loved anything in my life as much as I love her.”

 

“Then you’ve got to go back,” Connor says firmly. “You’ve got to go back, and let her explain, and… she’s got to be freaking out that you’ve disappeared on you, dude. You can’t let those DYAD fuckers ruin this for you. They control so much of our lives, they’re everywhere, they… don’t let them take this away from you, okay?”

 

Lucas sighs. “Alright. You’re right. I guess. Let’s just… if we hurry, we can get my shit back to the apartment before she’s home from class and I can drive you to the airport or whatever.” He kind of winces. “I’ll pay for your flight, I… shit, Connor, I fucked this up, I… I’m sorry.”

 

“Hey,” Connor says, as gently as he can manage. “You annoy the living shit out of me, Lucas, but you’re my brother and I am here for you no matter what.” He grins. “Plus those were the best brownies I’ve ever eaten that didn’t have drugs in them.” He thinks about it. “Actually they might be the only brownies I’ve ever eaten that didn’t have drugs in them.”

 

A few hours later, they drive past Lucas and Donna’s apartment to see that Donna’s car isn’t in the driveway. They decide to risk it, and Connor parks and helps Lucas get his stuff into the house. 

 

Then freezes as Donna appears in the doorway and stares directly at them. 

 

“What the fuck,” says Donna, a little breathless. “What the actual fuck.”

 

Connor feels Lucas freeze from behind him, then all of a sudden his clone flies into action.

 

“That study you’re doing?” Lucas says, his voice harsh. “Where you report my every move to a bunch of scientists? Well, it’s not a fucking sociology project, it’s my life.” He gestures to Connor. “This is Connor. He’s my clone. My genetic identical. That’s what you’re reporting on, Donna. That’s what this whole thing is about. Human cloning. I’m one of the subjects in a human cloning program and you’ve been treating me like a lab rat for the past 2 years.”

 

“Lucas,” Connor says gently, not taking his eyes off Donna, who is white as a sheet. “I don’t think you should-”

 

“You’re a clone,” Donna says flatly, still pale as a ghost. “You’re a clone? I didn’t even know that was possible. How many of you are there?”

 

“We don’t know an exact number,” Connor admits. “But Lucas… Donna, he loves you. He thought you were spying on him, he thought that you’d been doing it the whole time, that the only reason you said yes to marrying him was because of the experiment-”

 

“I said yes because I love you, you fucking idiot,” Donna says fiercely. “That doesn’t change because I met some hipster with your face.”

 

“Okay, so I wouldn’t call myself a hipster, exactly-”

 

“You didn’t know about the clones?” Lucas asks, eyes wide. “You really didn’t know?”

 

Donna shakes her head. “I didn’t know. I thought it was… they told me it was about you being an IVF baby.” She lets out a shaky laugh. “I only did it because it paid well and… I wanted to save up for this amazing wedding dress. I saw it in the shop and I thought about what your face would look like when you saw me wearing it and-”

 

Donna’s cut off by Lucas grabbing her and kissing her, and Connor’s going to look somewhere else because straight people kissing is weird, especially when one of them looks like him. 

 

“Okay,” Connor says to himself. “Right. Cool. Okay.”

 

He might just order an Uber to the airport. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	45. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus gets some news. Jerome processes.

Seamus Sadler has never gotten out of the habit of watching his back. 

 

His years of helping people disappear have depended on it. You can’t make someone disappear if someone else is watching, after all, so he’s gotten very good at making sure he’s not being seen. 

 

So have the rest of his network. It’s not a big network, but there are people who know people and they’re willing to lend a hand when it’s important. 

 

What’s important is tracking down August and getting him away from whoever it is who’s using him as a tool to kill the other clones. 

 

Seamus remembers when the twins were born and how he could always tell the difference between his two identical boys. Even when they were only weeks old, he could tell them apart. Dorian slept more, but August just wanted to be held. 

 

It makes him sick to think about his August, made into a murderer. 

 

He’s going to save him. 

 

Seamus tracks August to an abandoned warehouse, only blocks away from the apartment complex, then leaves before he can be seen. He heads to the Childs’ apartment to talk with Connor, who’d agreed to keep August busy long enough for them to get into position to tail him. 

 

Hopefully the kid’s doing okay. Seamus can’t even imagine what it must be like to see someone who looks exactly like you and know that they want you dead. 

 

Seamus has spent countless hours looking himself in the mirror and hating what he let his son become. 

 

Connor answers the door and lets Seamus in. He seems troubled, and tired, but nowhere near as bad as he was after his initial encounter with August. Connor had been barely coping then - exhausted to the bone, practically a zombie, having to be prompted to eat and shower and function normally. 

 

Thank God for Reed coming to town and looking after him, even though seeing Reed and Connor together had been hard for Seamus. 

 

It reminded him too much of what he’d wanted for August and Dorian. 

 

Not for the first time, he thinks about Dorian. Seamus hopes that wherever he is, he’s happy and well cared for. Not brainwashed and starving like August. Not troubled, alone and out of his depth like Connor. 

 

He wants Dorian to be happy. 

 

“I hope it wasn’t too hard,” Seamus says as he takes a seat on the couch. “Dealing with August, that is. He didn’t hurt you, did he? I had people watching who would have jumped in to help if he had done anything serious, but… still.”

 

“He didn’t hurt me,” Connor mumbles. He looks a little shaken, and Seamus isn’t surprised. Seeing August is hard enough for Seamus. What must it be like when it’s your own face?

 

“Did he say anything useful?” Seamus asks, trying to keep his tone gentle. “You were talking for a while.”

 

“He thinks he’s on a mission from God,” Connor says. For some reason, he’s having trouble looking Seamus in the eye, and it’s a little concerning. “He said he and I have a connection and wants me to join his holy crusade, and…”

 

Connor finally looks at Seamus. He looks scared, and ashamed, and nervous, and… there’s something else there Seamus can’t put his finger on. 

 

“Connor,” says Seamus gently. “What’s going on?”

 

“Torpedo cracked the DYAD files and found out something,” Connor confesses quietly. “I didn’t know until just before I left today, but I thought you should know, and I just… I’m really sorry.”

 

Seamus frowns. “What is it?”

 

“I’m the other one.” Connor looks at Seamus, gaze uncertain. “I’m the other twin. I’m Dorian.”

 

All Seamus can do is stare. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says in a rush. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know I was adopted, but the papers were all there in the DYAD files - when DYAD took Anthea and Dorian, they gave Dorian to a family with DYAD connections. My parents. And they obviously renamed me and never told me I was adopted and… I’m sorry.”

 

“Why do you keep saying you’re sorry?” Seamus asks, feeling his heart clench painfully. Because as he’s looking at this familiar face, it’s all starting to slot into place. 

 

Of course this is Dorian. 

 

Of course this is his Dorian. 

 

His heart knows. 

 

“Because you must be so disappointed,” Connor practically mumbles. “You must be so disappointed that it’s me. It would have been better if it were any of the others, but me… I’m just… I’m so messed up and I’m trying to be Ben but failing miserably and it’s all falling apart and I keep making everything worse-”

 

“Connor’s a good Irish name,” Seamus interrupts firmly. “My grandmother’s maiden name was O’Connor, funnily enough. Anthea named the two of you, as was her right, but I wouldn’t have minded if she’d called you Connor.” He smiles. “A good Irish name. Connects you to where you were born. I wonder if it’s why your adopted parents chose it.”

 

Connor still doesn’t seem to be able to look at him. Seamus thinks his heart might burst any second. 

 

Because this is his son. It’s his son, nearly a grown man, who he never got a chance to be a proper father to, sitting there ashamed because he thinks he’s a disappointment.

 

“I’m not disappointed it’s you at all,” Seamus says, trying to give the sentence as much weight as he can. “I’m glad it’s you.” He sighs. “I’m just sorry you didn’t have a better life. I’m sorry you got sucked into this whole clone thing without any support. It’s not fair.”

 

Connor kind of scoffs. “I’m not good at any of this.”

 

“What, they don’t offer any classes at that fancy school of yours on how to deal with finding out you’re part of an illegal human cloning experiment?” Seamus says with a roll of his eyes.

 

“I mean, I only skimmed the syllabus,” Connor replies with a half-smile. 

 

“Always read the syllabus,” Seamus shoots back with a full smile. “That’s my first piece of Dad advice to you.” 

 

Connor smiles properly for a moment, then looks away. “I’m not a very good son,” he says, and Seamus can tell that he’s completely serious, that this is exactly what he thinks. “I think Larry would attest to that.”

 

“Well, I’m not a very good father,” Seamus replies honestly. 

 

“You had no choice,” Connor insists. “If you could have, I think you’d have been great.” His ears go a little pink at that.

 

Seamus doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to go from here, from this weird situation where the boy who should have been his son is sitting in front of him, and he missed out on everything, from first steps to first words to first day of school to first loose tooth… 

 

He dimly realizes he’s crying. 

 

He’s missed it all. 

 

“Shit,” says Connor, sounding a little panicked. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

 

“It’s okay,” Seamus insists. “Just… I would have loved to be your dad, Connor.”

 

“I know,” Connor replies quietly. “I know. I’m sorry you didn’t get to.”

 

“It kills me that August is…”

 

“I know.”

 

Seamus sniffs, and tries to pull himself together. “Okay. Right. I’ve missed a lot. But I’m here now, and… I know it’s weird, but I’d like to be part of your life if you’ll let me.”

 

Connor doesn’t really say anything. He just nods, and clears this throat, and stands up. “I’m going to make some tea,” he says. “Do you want some?”

 

Seamus smiles. “That sounds lovely.”

 

They spend a couple of hours sitting and talking over tea, just about stupid stuff. Seamus talks about Ireland, Connor tells some stories from being a kid. They’re getting to know each other. It’s awkward, and it’s a little odd, and it’s certainly not what Seamus could have foreseen when he held Dorian as a tiny baby in his arms so many years ago. It’s bittersweet. 

 

Seamus isn’t the sort of man to just let things go. The fact that he’s still in the thick of the clone conspiracy, the fact that he’s spent the last 18 years keeping tabs on the clones - that’s just proof that he’s tenacious. That he holds onto things. 

 

He holds on to things too much sometimes. 

 

He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to let go of the guilt, of the shame, of the anger that he didn’t get what he so desperately wanted with the woman he loved. The sheer devastation of seeing everything you ever wanted, right in front of you, then having it taken away. 

 

But maybe he can connect with Connor. Maybe they can build a relationship. 

 

Maybe the two of them can save August. 

 

Maybe Seamus can keep both of his boys safe, after all this time. 

 

* * *

 

Jerome’s got a lot of thinking to do. 

 

He’s also got work. 

 

It’s not a great combination. 

 

He’s supposed to be doing a pick up in an alley near Ben’s apartment, and he’s been waiting for twenty minutes for the contact who just isn’t showing up, which is making him nervous but also giving him way too much time with his thoughts. 

 

Ben’s dead. 

 

Ben’s dead. 

 

Ben killed himself. 

 

Ben was so broken that he killed himself. 

 

And Jerome didn’t know for months. 

 

He’s disgusted with himself. He thought he loved Ben. He knew Ben didn’t feel the same way, or at least not as intensely, but he’d definitely thought he loved Ben. 

 

But if he loved Ben, then surely he should have been able to tell that Connor wasn’t him from the beginning? Surely he should have. 

 

He feels like he abandoned Ben by not knowing. 

 

The guilt is eating his insides. 

 

The guilt is being multiplied by the fact that Jerome had genuinely enjoyed spending time with Connor while he pretended to be Ben. 

 

That there were moments where Jerome had thought that maybe Ben was finally starting to love him the way he loved him. 

 

But it wasn’t Ben. It was Connor. 

 

Connor Murphy. 

 

Jerome looked up Connor Murphy online and found an article announcing his death in a paper a few states over, plus a Facebook page with painfully few photos on that had been turned into an ‘In Memoriam’ page. It’s full of messages from students and most of them strongly suggest that they didn’t actually know the guy at all.

 

But the photos look exactly like Ben, except with longer hair. 

 

Same eyes. Same nose. Same ears. Same jawline. 

 

Clones. 

 

Genetic identicals.

 

It doesn’t make any fucking sense at all. 

 

Part of Jerome feels like he should be cutting himself a break about this. They look identical. Completely and utterly identical. How is he supposed to guess they’re different people? He’s met four of them now - four teenage boys with the same face. It doesn’t seem possible. 

 

He thinks back to what that creepy woman at Neolution said. 

 

Phanes. 

 

_ They’re broken, those boys. There’s something not right about them. Those Phanes boys are ticking time bombs and they’ll leave a black hole that’ll swallow you up. _

 

Ticking time bombs. 

 

What the hell does that mean?

 

They’re all messy, in their own way. Ben was… he was complicated, and controlled, and shut off, and he killed himself. The French clone, all pleasure and sex and no thoughts about consequences. Connor, with his wild impulsiveness, his improvisation, his… 

 

Jerome thinks about that day when “Ben” skipped school, he texted and received a reply that he needed to not be feeling anything. They’d gotten high together and while it was a bit of a blur of drugs and sex, Jerome remembers something he’d said. 

 

_ I don’t think I’m a real person. _ __   
  


Jerome should have seen this coming. 

 

Maybe?

 

It’s all just a fucking hot mess. 

 

It’s been nearly half an hour and there’s no sign of his contact. Jerome’s just about to leave when he spots a familiar green jacket and his blood runs cold. 

 

It’s the other one. 

 

The other clone. 

 

The one who knocked him out. The one who wants to kill the others. 

 

He wants to turn and run but there’s no place to go. 

 

“Why are you here?” says the clone in a thick accent that Jerome can’t really peg but thinks might be Russian. “Is not safe. Not good place for Handsome Man.”

 

“I’m meeting someone,” says Jerome cautiously. “But they’re not here, so I’ll go-”

 

“I am sorry,” the clone interrupts, his eyes big and sad. “I am sorry I make you sleep. I do not mean to hurt you.”

 

Jerome has absolutely no fucking clue how to respond to that. “Uh, okay.”

 

“You are friend of Ben, yes?”

 

“You could say that,” Jerome says, trying to position himself so he’s got a clear path to run away. 

 

The clone’s face looks very, very sad for a moment, then looks back at him with curiosity. “The monks say it is sin for man to lie with man, but that love is holy. It is paradox. God will shine his light and all will be revealed. This is the only truth.” He looks Jerome up and down, expression confused. “Do you have the demons? Do you need to be saved?”

 

“I need to go,” Jerome replies, as politely and forcefully as he can. “I’m sorry, I-”

 

A gunshot rips through the air and the clone hits the ground, clutching his shoulder. Jerome turns to try to figure out where the noise is coming from, then feels something hit the back of his head. Hard. 

 

He’s still trying to figure out what’s going on as he blacks out completely.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	46. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan's in Beijing and meets a familiar face.

Evan’s never left the country before this trip. He didn’t even have a passport. DYAD helped him fast-track one. It’s all been a total whirlwind. 

 

Not for the first time, he wonders if he’s gotten in over his head with DYAD. 

 

The hotel he’s staying in is very nice, and it’s the same hotel that the conference itself is being held in. His first day he spends recovering from the flight over, after messaging his mom to let him know he arrived safely. 

 

Connor’s been kind of in a communication blackout because of the Lucas situation, which Evan is trying not to take personally. 

 

He just needs to keep reminding himself that the whole reason he’s here is to talk about the cure research. 

 

The first day of the conference itself is fairly straightforward. There’s a presentation on the symptoms of the clone disease, except that it’s not presented in the context of human cloning. In fact, there are definitely gaps in what’s being said, and Evan can’t quite tell why. Does this mean they’ve got scientists involved who don’t know what they’re working on? If they’re really dedicated to finding a cure, why so much secrecy? 

 

Is keeping their secrets more important than saving lives? 

 

He leaves the first presentation with a rock in his gut and a bad taste in his mouth, then follows the group to the lunch buffet and tries to find something that’ll maybe make him feel a bit less sick. He’s just managed to pick up some kind of salad when someone bumps into him. 

 

Evan turns and finds himself face to face with a clone. 

 

“I’m terribly sorry,” says the clone in a polite British accent. “How clumsy of me.”

 

It never gets less weird, seeing someone with his boyfriend’s face in front of him. This clone is wearing thin wire-framed glasses, a short sleeved shirt and khaki pants. It’s not entirely unlike Evan’s high school look. His hair is short, but not too short to not still have some curl, and he holds himself a little differently to Connor and Reed. Whereas Connor still has his high school tendency to fold in on himself (although this has definitely improved) and Reed kind of floats as they move, this one stands up straight in a way that suggests he’s been told all his life not to slouch, not that he’s got any real inner reason to be doing so. 

 

“No worries,” Evan replies, feeling his throat get a little dry. This is weird. This is still super weird. 

 

Something shifts in the clone’s expression. Evan almost sees it click in his face that Evan knows who - what - he is. “I’m Charles,” he says, offering a hand to shake. “Charles Booth. I’m currently working with DYAD out of Cambridge University.” 

 

“Evan Hansen,” he replies. “I’m, uh, interning while I finish my degree.”

 

Charles picks up a salad and then gestures to a table. “Would you like to sit with me?”

 

“Sure,” Evan agrees, and soon they’re at a table. 

 

“So what’s your degree focusing on?” Charles asks, his voice genuinely interested. 

 

Evan tries to shake off the weirdness and replies. “I’ve always had an interest in environmental science, but I’ve been doing some work on genetics with DYAD and am looking at adding a component to my degree. How about you?”

 

“Currently working on my Masters,” Charles says, spearing some lettuce with a fork. “I was in an accelerated program so finished my undergrad early.” He smiles a little self-consciously. “Granted, it didn’t leave time for a lot of work-life balance, so although it may sound impressive, it just means I didn’t really do anything but study. I’m also focusing on genetics.”

 

“Thus why you’re here,” says Evan, trying to keep his tone light. 

 

“Yes,” says Charles, looking at Evan knowingly. “Exactly.” His expression turns questioning. “Are you part of the social matrices program as well?”

 

Evan knows what he’s really asking. He’s asking if Evan’s a monitor. He’s trying to confirm that Evan knows about the clones. 

 

“I am,” Evan confirms. “Have been for a few months now. It’s… fascinating.”

 

“Indeed,” says Charles, his smile a little hollow. “And your subject?”

 

“Also fascinating,” Evan says. He can’t help break into a real smile. “Reed is… one of a kind. They’re an interesting person.”

 

“Reed identifies as non-binary?” Charles asks, clearly interested. “That’s fascinating. One of the things I do appreciate about this study is seeing the differences between the subjects.” He takes another bite of salad. “Despite the obvious similarities.”

 

They talk idly for the rest of lunch, and as they’re leaving for the next part of the conference, Charles hands Evan a piece of paper. Evan frowns. 

 

“You dropped this,” Charles says, his tone firm. 

 

“Oh. Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Charles smiles, and then disappears into the conference venue. 

 

The next part of the conference ends, and Evan’s heading off to maybe lie down for a while (he’s still exhausted and the whole thing is tiring) when he overhears a name he recognizes from a pair of scientists talking behind him. 

 

“It’s been nearly a week since Lucas disappeared, Donna’s reporting. If he’s caught on to the study, he may be avoiding her.”

 

“I still think she’s being melodramatic. She is a performer, after all.”

 

“If he’s showing symptoms, then he needs more monitoring than ever. If he’s not back in the next 48 hours, we’ll need to send someone to retrieve him. Bring him into the local DYAD office and perform the necessary tests.”

 

Evan tries not to bring attention to himself as he heads to a remote corner by the pool and calls Connor to let him know. Connor’s… a little drunk, from what Evan can tell, but seems to grasp the gravity of the situation. Then he asks about the conference, and Evan’s not sure what to say. He makes some joke about feeling out of place, and Connor’s quiet for a long moment. 

 

_ He thinks you’re too stupid to be here. He thinks you’re in over your head. He doesn’t trust you. He thinks you’re useless. He doesn’t think you can save him. He doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust you.  _

 

“You’ll be careful, right?” asks Connor, his voice a little hesitant. 

 

It just makes Evan feel worse. 

 

_ He doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust you. _

 

“Always,” Evan promises. He’s really trying. He really is. 

 

“Okay,” says Connor. He kind of sighs. “I’ve gotta go. Lucas.”

 

“Right, sure.” Evan takes a deep breath. There’s so much he wants to say. He wants to tell Connor that he’s doing this all for him, that he’d risk everything for him and his brothers, that he  _ can _ be trusted, that everything he’s doing is for Connor’s benefit, because…. “Iloveyoubye.”

 

It’s not how Evan planned to say those three words and in shock, he ends the call, then sits down in a lounge chair and kind of… kicks himself mentally. 

 

Then he puts his hand in his pocket and finds the piece of paper Charles gave him. 

 

It’s a note. 

 

_ 9pm, room 414.  _

 

His heart starts racing. He’s not sure what to expect, but… 

 

He’s got a few hours, so Evan does a bit of exploring near the hotel. It’s loud and bright and full of people, and it’s kind of nice to get lost in the crowd, to feel anonymous, to realize that the world is big and bold and there’s more going on than weird clone conspiracies and the vague feeling that his control over the situation is slipping through his fingers. 

 

He decides he likes exploring foreign countries, but he’d like it more if he wasn’t alone. 

 

If he had a normal job and a normal boyfriend, then maybe he could take Connor on business trips like this and they could explore together. Evan tries to imagine Connor’s reaction to the hustle and bustle of Beijing. 

He thinks he might like it but he can’t be sure. 

 

Connor wouldn’t be able to travel unless he had a passport in Ben Childs’ name. Because Connor Murphy is legally dead. 

 

It’s just so fucked up. 

 

There are people drinking at the hotel bar that Evan vaguely recognizes when he gets back from his adventures. It’s nearly 8pm, so he thinks he might go back to his room for a bit, but he hears his name being called and realizes it’s Kylie, at least three margaritas deep. 

 

“Evan!” she exclaims. “Come have a drink with me.”

 

“Just one,” he relents. “Gotta keep focused for the rest of the conference. I’m still jetlagged.”

 

“First time overseas, I take it?” Kylie asks, taking a sip of her drink. 

 

“Am I that obvious?”

 

Kylie smiles kindly. “No, no. It’s just that the first time really knocks the stuffing out of you. You think this is bad, you should try flying from Australia. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s painful.” She downs her drink and gestures to the bartender for another one. 

 

“How are you finding the conference?” Evan asks, after ordering a beer. 

 

Kylie’s expression turns grim. “It’s not… maybe it’s just the beginning, but there are so many holes in what’s being said,” she says, her voice a little slurred but still thankfully quiet enough not to draw attention. “It just… it feels like they’re making a big song and dance about it and not doing anything, you know?”

 

Evan does know. It’s exactly the impression he got. He’s not sure how to say that, though. “Like you said, it’s early in the conference,” he says, also keeping his voice low. “But I can’t say I disagree with you.”

 

“I just…” Kylie swirls her margarita around in the glass, staring at it intently. “I don’t think it’s enough. I don’t think they’re doing enough, and… they’re going to die if we…”

 

“I know,” Evan says gently. “I know.”

 

“I don’t want to see another one go,” Kylie says, her voice very quiet. “I want to believe this conference is a good way for all of us to share information, but so far it’s just… for this to work, we need to be open and honest and communicate, but there are so many secrets that it’s just not possible.”

 

“I guess we’ll see how the rest of the conference goes?” Evan suggests. 

 

It looks like Kylie’s about to start crying, so he thanks the bartender and quietly suggests Kylie head back to her room to lie down. She’s not so drunk that she can’t find her way there, but he comes with her to make sure she’s okay. Evan suspects she’s more tired and emotional than inebriated, but it’s made her looser and softer and more vulnerable. 

 

Evan can tell that Kylie really loved Noah. 

 

Evan can tell that Kylie really wants to cure the clone illness. 

 

Evan hopes that they’re enough to make that happen. 

 

Once he’s got Kylie settled, it’s nearly 9, so he heads to room 414 and steels himself before knocking on the door. Charles opens it almost straight away and ushers him in. 

 

There are nearly a dozen other people in the room. One is methodically looking around the room and it takes a minute for Evan to figure out what he’s doing. 

 

He’s looking for bugs. 

 

The man eventually finds a lamp and places something small on it, then turns to the rest of the group. 

 

“Okay, that should give us about half an hour,” he says. He looks at Evan. “You must be Evan.”

 

“What’s this about?” Evan asks, a little nervous. Charles gestures for him to sit on a nearby sofa, between a tiny Asian woman and a stocky brunette. 

 

“There’s not a lot of time, so I’ll be brief,” says Charles, his expression grim. “We call ourselves the Ethical Science Movement. We’re all working for DYAD but we don’t necessarily trust that they’re doing the right thing.”

 

“This conference is a joke,” says the woman next to Evan. She’s got an accent he can’t quite place. “They’re dancing around the issue. They’re too concerned with secrets and patents and money to actually focus on the issue at hand - which is curing the clones.”

 

“So you all know about the clones,” Evan says, trying to keep his voice even. 

 

“We know you do, too,” says Charles, looking at him knowingly. “You’d have completely freaked out when you met me if you hadn’t. Not to mention that your name’s come up more than once in DYAD circles.”

 

“Really?” Evan asks, a little surprised. “I’m just an intern.”

 

“You’re an intern with connections to a high profile DYAD employee,” Charles explains. “Larry Murphy. He’s been involved with some extremely sensitive cases for the organization and is someone they trust. As a result, they’ve taken a particular interest in you.” Charles looks at him with a slight smile. “But we’re pretty sure you’re on our side when it comes to finding a cure. After all, you’ve got a lot of clone connections. Your best friend in high school was a clone. You’re good friends with your subject. And we know you’re dating Ben Childs.”

 

Evan thinks he’s going to start hyperventilating any second. “What?” he replies weakly. 

 

“DYAD don’t know about Ben, but I do,” says Charles, leaning toward him a bit. “I’ve been in contact with Ben before, you see, so I keep tabs on him. He got me some information decrypted back in high school. They called me Beanpole back then.”

 

“Beanpole?”

 

Charles rolls his eyes. “I’m tall. It’s stupid. Anyway, I’ve been keeping tabs on Ben, and I’ve seen you together. You obviously care about him. You obviously care about all the clones. Which leads us to believe you’ve got a soul. And considering DYAD’s interest in you… well, we’d like to make sure you keep it.”

 

“What do you want from me?” Evan blurts out, his mind still spinning with the bomb Charles just dropped. 

 

He’s going to go crazy, trying to figure out who knows what. 

 

DYAD doesn’t know about Connor. 

 

The Ethical Science Movement do, but think he’s Ben Childs. 

 

This is fucking with his head. 

 

“We’re getting all the information we can,” the Asian woman pipes up. “I’m based in Johannesburg, we’ve got clones there who are much, much sicker than the ones in North America. It’s… it’s not good. They don’t have much time. But DYAD isn’t giving everything they can to the research. So we’re taking things into our own hands.”

 

“We’ll provide ways for us to all keep in touch,” Charles adds. “The cure is the top priority. Once we’ve found that, there are… other things DYAD is hiding. Things we’d like to put an end to. Things that aren’t… things that aren’t science. They’re just torture. And we won’t stand for it.”

 

The woman next to Evan hands him a file. He opens it and sees a photo on top. It’s of a baby, clearly newborn, with only half a face. He tries not to recoil visibly but he knows he must look sick. 

 

“This is just a taste of it,” says the woman, her voice disgusted. “They’re breeding babies with intentional birth defects so they can experiment on them. It’s inhumane. That’s just scratching the surface of the horrors we’ve uncovered.”

 

“Celine’s seen these babies in person,” Charles says quietly. “It’s… I have a hard enough time looking at the photos. It can’t be allowed to continue, but we have to be smart. Work smart. Get everything we need. Get the cure sorted, so they can’t hold the rest of the Phanes clones hostage while we burn them to the ground.” 

 

“If you’re looking for scientists who might want to be part of this,” Evan begins, his voice a little shaky, “you want Kylie McAllistair. She’s… she’s one of the good ones.”

 

Charles nods. “She’s come to our attention. Thanks for the advice. I’ll reach out to her throughout the week.” His expression is grave. “But you can’t tell any of the clones about us. The less they know, the safer they are. You can’t tell Reed and you definitely can’t tell Ben.”

 

“They’ll want to help,” Evan argues weakly. 

 

“I’m sure they will,” Charles replies. He looks tired. “But until we’ve got a cure, we keep the truth about DYAD a secret from everyone. For their own safety.” He kind of smiles sadly at Evan. “I take it you’re in?”

 

Deep down, Evan realizes he doesn’t have a choice. “Yeah. I’m in.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	47. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation in an abandoned warehouse.

Jerome wakes up to the sound of screaming.

 

It’s like waking up into a nightmare. It takes him a while to figure out where he is - it’s an abandoned warehouse, he thinks he’s been here before for work. He’s handcuffed to a pipe on the wall and even though his vision is kind of double (he’s definitely got a concussion, holy shit) he can see what’s going on in front of him.

 

There’s the killer clone, locked in some sort of cage, howling in pain as a woman pours buckets of a strong smelling liquid all over him.

 

It takes a moment, but Jerome figures out what it is by the smell.

 

It’s bleach.

 

He can’t help it. He’s violently ill and only barely has time to lean over and vomit on the floor instead of all over himself.

 

The woman finishes pouring a bucket on the killer clone and then comes toward Jerome, her expression wild and crazed. She’s probably in her 40s and looks like she could break him in half if she wanted to.

 

“You’re awake,” she says. Her accent is smoother than the clones, closer to a British accent, but there’s a hint of almost Russian around the edges. “Good. August needs to see this.”

 

“He is not part of this!” screams the clone - August, Jerome realizes, his name is August. “We do not harm the innocent, it is against God.”

 

“He can’t be allowed to live,” says the woman, almost calmly. Like she’s trying to be reasonable. “And you’re not worthy of knowing God’s plans, August. You’re nothing. You’re full of demons and you need saving.” She turns back to August. “If you kill him, you’ll be one step closer to the light.”

 

August snarls. “You are the one with demons.” He spits in her direction.

 

The woman’s eyes widen. She pulls out a knife and approaches August’s cage. “You’re confused,” she says, her voice still eerily calm. “You’re confused, but God will save you if you repent. Kill him. I will even let you make it quick.”

 

August is quiet for a moment. “You will kill if I do not,” he says slowly. Wearily. He looks right at Jerome. He’s soaked through and squinting and looks so incredibly, down to his bones sad that it kind of makes Jerome want to cry.

 

Ben’s face.

 

Connor’s face.

 

It’s all melding together in his brain. His head hurts, and he’s not really sure he’s completely awake. This whole thing could just be a nightmare.

 

It’s funny. He knew there were risks involved in his line of work, but he never thought that he’d be handcuffed to a pipe in an abandoned warehouse for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he deals drugs.

 

He remembers the first day he met Ben Childs.

 

The day they started studying together.

 

The day Ben kissed him.

 

Ben was supposed to be the part of his life that was nice and normal and made him feel like a proper teenager. Instead, he’s here.

 

About to murdered by one of his doppelgangers.

 

“I will,” says the woman, her voice dark. “And I will make it slow. Redeem yourself, August.”

 

August stares at Jerome for a long moment, then hangs his head. “Alright.”

 

* * *

 

Seamus’s phone rings as he’s about to leave the Childs’ apartment. Connor isn’t exactly listening in, but he sees Seamus’s face turn pale and tenses a little. This doesn’t sound good. The call ends, and he turns to Connor.

 

“There’s something going down at the warehouse,” he says curtly. “We need to get there now. August was shot, and your friend was there. They’re both in danger.”

 

Connor thinks his brain might have just short-circuited. “Jerome?”

 

“Blond kid who’s here all the time? Yeah.”

 

“I’m coming with you,” Connor insists.

 

Seamus goes to argue, then looks like he’s thinking twice about it. “Wire cutters,” he says instead. “Do you have a bolt cutter?”

 

“I have no idea,” Connor admits.

 

“I think I know where the toolbox is,” Seamus mutters to himself, then disappears into the guest room and comes out a few minutes later with what he was looking for. “Come on. We can walk but we need to hurry.”

 

They’re speed-walking down the block toward the warehouse, Connor hot on Seamus’s heels. “Why the bolt cutter?” he asks.

 

“My people scoped the place out,” Seamus says, his voice curt. “They found a cage. I don’t want to need it.”

 

They arrive at the warehouse just as Seamus’s words sink in. Seamus pushes Connor back and they stay in the shadows as a tall, intimidating looking woman pulls August out of… a cage.

 

He looks like a drowned rat. The whole place smells of bleach, and Connor’s hit with the sickening realization that August is climbing out of a puddle of it. He’s literally covered in bleach, like he’s been soaked in it. He’s holding his side, and Connor remembers Seamus’s first comment.

 

He’d been shot.

 

He’s soaking in bleach and has a gunshot wound.

 

Connor thinks he’s going to be sick.

 

The woman hands August a knife, and he looks at it in his hand, which Connor can see is shaking. He looks at the wall, and Connor follows his eyes.

 

And then his breath catches in his throat.

 

There’s Jerome, handcuffed to some kind of pipe, looking like he’s barely conscious.

 

“Destroy the demon,” the woman says harshly, her voice echoing across the warehouse. “Destroy him, and you will be saved.”

 

August just stares at the knife in his hand.

 

Connor goes to start running toward him, but Seamus holds him back, covering his mouth with his hand. “Not yet,” he says. “I’ll give you the signal and you distract him. I’ll take out the woman.”

 

Connor hopes it’s not too late.

 

* * *

 

The knife is smooth in his hand. The handle is wood, and it is very beautiful.

 

August has always thought that death can be beautiful, even though he does not understand why.

 

He thinks back to the first abomination he killed. It was somewhere in Spain. He could not understand the words the abomination used, but he knew the face. He knew it was his face. But he knew it was not him.

 

He stabbed the abomination in the heart with a knife like this. He made it quick. He was dead quickly, and as he fell, the red of the blood colored his white shirt like paint.

 

The abomination fell to the floor as the life drained away. He lay there, eyes open, and August was almost jealous. His eyes were open so he could be face to face with God.

 

With every dead abomination, August is closer to God himself.

 

This is what Tatiana had taught him.

 

But he is not sure anymore that this is truth.

 

“If you do not do it, I will kill him myself,” says Tatiana.

 

August knows this.

 

August knows that Handsome Man will die tonight.

 

It makes him ache in his chest. Handsome Man is handsome, and kind, and cares for the unknown abomination. For Connor.

 

His brother. His twin.

 

He thinks about Connor’s words. That the man with the sad eyes wanted to be their father. That he was not abandoned because he was not loved.

 

August does not know if he believes this.

 

But he thinks he believes that Connor is his brother.

 

His twin.

 

He feels the connection and believes that it is God.

 

“I am not the only one with the light,” August says quietly. “There is another. God will save us.”

 

“God does not want you,” Tatiana snaps. “Not until you fulfill his plan.”

 

“It’s okay,” says Handsome Man, his voice kind of far away. “August. It’s okay. If it’s quick, it’s okay.”

 

“Even the demon cannot stand to be so far away from the light,” Tatiana says. “He begs for death. For a quick death.”

 

Handsome Man is nice. He does not deserve to suffer.

 

“I can make it quick,” August says to himself. “I can make it quick.”

 

“Do it,” Tatiana insists.

 

August tightens his grip on the knife.

 

Smooth. Beautiful.

 

Death can be beautiful sometimes.

 

He closes his eyes and he prays for God to forgive him.

 

Then grabs Tatiana and plunges it into her side.

 

* * *

 

Everything happens in a blur. It’s like it’s in slow motion, but all happening at once.

 

August stabs Tatiana and she lunges at him, grabbing him by the neck. Seamus runs toward the two of them, pulling August from Tatiana’s grasp. Connor takes the bolt cutters and tries frantically to get Jerome free from where he’s handcuffed to the wall.

 

“Ben?” asks Jerome, sounding woozy. “Is that you?”

 

“Yeah,” Connor lies. “It’s me.”

 

“Thought you were gone,” he mumbles. Connor manages to cut through the handcuffs and helps Jerome to his feet. He’s stumbling, and he’s not really properly awake, but he’s conscious and he’s alive, and that’s good enough for Connor right now.

 

“I’m right here,” he assures Jerome. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

 

“So many faces,” Jerome says. He winces. “My head hurts.”

 

“Yeah, I think you’ve got a concussion,” says Connor, frowning. “We’ll get that looked at, I promise.”

 

“No hospitals,” Jerome shoots back. “Can’t afford that shit.”

 

“I’ll pay,” Connor replies, just as quickly.

 

Jerome snorts. “We always come back to this argument, don’t we, Connor?”

 

There’s a blood-curdling scream and a sickening crunch, and Connor turns to see that August has been thrown against the wall. He’s falling hard and he’s not getting up. Seamus is struggling with Tatiana, and…

 

Connor makes a snap decision. “Wait here,” he says, helping Jerome lean against a wall. “I need to… I’ll be back.”

 

He runs over to August without even thinking about it. August is bleeding from his side and from the back of his head and is shaking, badly. Connor tries not to move him too much and gently taps his collarbone. “Hey,” he says urgently. “August, hey, wake up. Come on.”

 

“There is the light,” says August. His eyes are closed, and they’re red and angry looking, and Connor’s pretty sure he’s in a lot of pain right now. “Can you see it?”

 

“Don’t pull this light bullshit with me right now,” Connor snaps. “You’re not fucking dying on me, asshole.

 

August laughs. “I would like to meet God. To see his glory.”

 

“One day you will,” Connor promises. “But not today, okay? Not today.”

 

The sound of a gunshot rings out.

 

August’s eyes shoot open at the noise. Connor doesn’t know what’s happening until he follows August’s gaze across the warehouse.

 

To where Jerome is lying with a bullet hole between his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Seamus has had the wind knocked out of him. He can’t move. He’s trying to gather his strength so he can, but he can’t stop the woman from shooting the blond kid.

 

The blond kid Connor was so obviously fond of.

 

He wants to get up, he wants to rush to his boys, he wants to destroy this woman and rip her to pieces. And he’s going to fucking do it, as soon as he gets his breath back.

 

The woman lowers the gun, looking over at August and Connor with an expression of satisfaction. “The demon is in hell,” she announces. “He will cause you to sin no longer, my August. Kill this abomination and you will see God’s glory.”

 

“God is not with you,” August hisses. “You are liar. _Liar_!”

 

“The abomination has corrupted you,” says the woman, moving toward the two of them.

 

Connor’s frozen in place, staring at Jerome like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. Seamus can tell that he’s starting to shut down from the stress and thinks about Connor’s reaction to Guy’s death, thinks about how removed from reality he seemed to be, and he’s got to get up because Connor can’t be losing it right now, it’s not safe, Seamus has to get up and protect him, protect his boys. Both of them.

 

August struggles to his feet and stands over Connor protectively. “I will not let you hurt him,” he says fiercely. “It is you who is true abomination. You warp the words of God. You are the one who is far from his light.”

 

“You know nothing,” says the woman, lunging toward August.

 

August is quick. He must be running on pure adrenaline. He kicks her in the shins and throws her off balance, then tackles her to the ground and starts digging his thumbs into her eye sockets. “You are blind,” August says, putting his knee on her chest and holding her in place. “You are blind, and you do not know God, and I will not follow the blind.”

 

Seamus finally manages to move. He gets up. He limps over to where August has the woman pinned down. August looks at him, expression challenging.

 

Seamus takes the gun the woman dropped and holds it against her temple.

 

“Let me do this, son,” he says to August gently.

 

August stares at him, eyes wide and full of rage. Slowly, he pulls his hands away, still pinning her to the ground.

  
Seamus pulls the trigger.

 

He’s dimly aware that both he and August are covered in the woman’s blood.

 

August looks down at the woman, her face unrecognisable, and spits in her face. Then he backs away and goes to Connor. Connor’s breathing is erratic, out of control, he’s crying and heaving and still doesn’t seem to be completely there. Seamus rushes over and helps Connor up.

 

The three of them are all barely standing, but together they manage to stumble out of the warehouse. Away from the bodies, away from the smell of bleach and fear.

 

Seamus realizes, somewhere in the back of his mind, that everything has changed for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers are encouraged to enjoy 'Dead Jerome' cocktail. Recipe below:
> 
> 1 shot gin  
> grenadine  
> ginger ale
> 
> Pour grenadine around the edges of a glass, then add a shot of gin and top with ginger ale. For authenticity, be sure to call gin "The Devil's Urine', as this is what the late Ben Childs called it. 
> 
> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	48. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of cake in Connor's apartment.

Connor gets back to his apartment, absolutely exhausted. 

 

The whole place smells vaguely of lemon-scented cleaner. 

 

And there’s still so much fucking cake. 

 

Connor had every intention of just getting an Uber to the airport, but Donna hadn’t wanted to hear it. Instead, she’d insisted that he stay overnight to get to know him. 

 

It was completely insane, of course, but he’d found himself unable to refuse. Donna had taken Lucas’s to get groceries (her car was in the shop, which was the whole reason they’d run into her in the first place) and Lucas had gone to have a shower, and Connor had just… kind of parked himself in the living room and looked at the numerous photos of the couple on the walls. 

 

There were a lot of photos - things like prom and high school graduation and family events. In all of them, Lucas is smiling harder than Connor’s ever seen and Donna’s just as happy. 

 

It kind of made him feel a little warm and fuzzy, which Connor vows never to admit to any of his clones. 

 

It’s just… it’s nice that they care about each other so much. 

 

Donna returned from the grocery store before Lucas got out of the shower and kind of rolled her eyes. “He’s always using up all the hot water,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. “It’s like he’s part fish or something.”

 

“Pretty sure we don’t have merman DNA,” Connor assured her. “I mean, I haven’t figured out all the science behind… whatever it is that makes us identical, but I’m like, at least 70% sure we can’t breathe underwater.”

 

Donna stared at him, kind of tilting her head in amazement. “You look exactly like him, but you’re nothing like him at all,” she said, honest-to-goodness wonder in her tone. “It’s completely crazy.”

 

“I’m not going to argue with you on that one,” Connor said honestly. 

 

Donna pulled a couple of bottles of wine out of her shopping bag. “I think we’re going to need this,” she announced, going to get glasses. “Plus I can tell Lucas is hungover.”

 

“Sorry,” Connor said, a little guiltily. “In my defense, I thought it would help.”

 

“Did he get all weird and mushy?” Donna’s tone was fond and wistful as she poured three glasses of wine. “He does that.”

 

“Yeah,” Connor admitted, taking the wine glass and having a sip. 

 

“God, I love being able to just buy alcohol,” Donna said enthusiastically. “I turned 21 in November and it’s just made college so much more interesting.”

 

Connor decided not to mention the fake ID he’s been using since high school. 

 

He heard the shower turn off and took a deep breath. “Look, before Lucas gets back, there’s something you need to know.”

 

Ten minutes later when Lucas returned to the kitchen, hair still damp, he took one look at Donna, then turned to Connor and glared at him accusingly. “You told her.”

 

“Of course he fucking told me,” Donna snapped. 

 

“She needs to know,” Connor pointed out. “She knows about the clones, she can know about the illness, too.”

 

“I feel fine,” Lucas said, frowning. “I mean, I’ve got a bit of a headache right now, but that probably has more to do with Connor’s shitty tequila.”

 

“Which you drank a  _ lot _ of, dude.”

 

“And DYAD is working on a cure,” Lucas pointed out, crossing his arms. “Connor’s boyfriend is one of the scientists working on it. Connor’s always saying that Evan’s a genius, so… no need to worry.”

 

“There’s a difference between not needing to worry about something and not needing to know,” Donna said, her voice frosty. “The cure might not happen straight away. Connor just told me. You can’t… what, you were going to hide it from me if you started going downhill?”

 

“It wouldn’t have come to that-”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I didn’t tell you to start an argument, Donna,” Connor said wearily. “I told you because Lucas is going to need someone in his corner when things start getting bad. This shit is scary enough as it is, he shouldn’t be going through it alone.” He took a deep breath. “Evan’s talked to me about it a little, and… it’s not fun. It’s not a fun way to die. They’re doing everything they can - there’s a huge conference happening right now in China where scientists from all over the world are compiling their research on the cure. It could lead to a big breakthrough. That’s what Evan said.”

 

“This is just… a lot,” Donna confessed. “Lucas, you scared the shit out of me running off like that, and now the clones and an illness on top of that… it’s a lot.”

 

Lucas hung his head. “I understand if you want to leave-”

 

“Who the hell said anything about leaving?” Donna practically yelled. “You asked me to marry you, you absolute  _ walnut. _ The only way I’m leaving you is in a body bag.”

 

“Well, statistically, I’m more likely to die first,” Lucas joked weakly. 

 

“Nope,” said Donna with a shake of her head. “Not happening. I refuse. If I have to waltz into the DYAD Institute with a kickline and a mariachi band to get you a cure, I’ll do it.”

 

“Musical theatre is not going to cure a genetic illness, Donna.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Connor decided to pour himself another glass of wine when they started kissing again. 

 

Still. So. Weird. 

 

The rest of the day with Donna and Lucas had been relatively pleasant, to be completely honest. They’d ordered Thai food and talked about their lives and it was all… weirdly normal. Connor decided relatively quickly that he liked Donna and that she was good for Lucas, as someone who doesn’t take herself too seriously. It’s a contrast that works well with Lucas’s tendency to blow things out of proportion. 

 

Connor thinks he gets it now. 

 

Thinks he gets Donna and Lucas. 

 

Being back in his apartment is still weird. Lucas had insisted on paying for a flight back to New York, which Connor appreciates, but even though the flight wasn’t particularly long he’s still exhausted. 

 

He’s exhausted, his apartment smells like lemon, he’s got more cake than he knows what to do with and his boyfriend is in Beijing. 

 

Connor does what any self-respecting college student would do in his position. He eats an entire carrot cake and watches Parks and Recreation for the rest of the day. 

 

The rest of the two weeks that Evan away goes by in what’s as close to normal as life ever gets for Connor. He finishes his winter break course and gets settled in for the new semester. He has coffee with Amanda at one point, which is nice and relatively laid back. He’s still not unconvinced she’s got DYAD connections, but she doesn’t seem to be pushing things, and he has to appreciate that she’s responding to the very strong ‘just friends’ vibe he strives to send each time they hang out one on one. 

 

At one point, he even goes out for a drink with some guy from one of his lectures, which quickly gets a little weird when Connor realizes halfway through that the guy in question thinks it’s a date. Somehow, he manages to gracefully avoid too much embarrassment by keeping the topics light and occasionally mentioning his boyfriend who’s currently on a business trip. 

 

All in all, Connor thinks that his high school self would be absolutely baffled at how good he’s gotten at actual human interaction. 

 

There’s hope for him yet. 

 

Evan gets back from Beijing late on a Friday night, and Connor’s not expecting to see him until Saturday afternoon at the latest. So he’s pretty surprised when there’s a knock on his door at 3 am. He rolls out of bed and heads to the front door. 

 

And there’s Evan. 

 

He looks tired, and a little troubled, but he’s smiling at the sight of him. “Sorry to wake you,” he says quietly, as though speaking any louder will break something in the still of the night. “I just really wanted to see you.”

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Connor says, ushering him inside and pulling him in for a kiss. “I missed you.”

 

“Missed you, too,” Evan murmurs as they part. “I’m so tired.”

 

“International travel will do that to you,” Connor says fondly, brushing Evan’s hair out of his face. It’s kind of an unruly mess. “Bed?”

 

Evan nods, and follows him into the bedroom, then kind of stands around, bewildered. “I, uh, I didn’t… I literally just dropped my suitcase at home then got in my car, I’m not even slightly prepared-”

 

“You’re fine,” Connor interrupts softly, pulling a pair of flannel pajama pants out of a drawer along with a t-shirt. “You can wear these. Plus you left some clothes here when you were staying over New Year’s, and I washed them, so you can even get changed in the morning.”

 

“You’re amazing,” Evan says, undoing his belt and pulling off his shirt. Whatever it is he’s wearing looks nice - he looks like the kind of person who’s just come home from an international business trip. It’s a good look on him. 

 

Then again, Connor muses as he realizes he’s staring at his boyfriend undress, everything’s a good look on Evan. 

 

Evan puts on the t-shirt and the pajama pants relatively quickly, then looks at Connor kind of quizzically. “You’re staring,” he says, his tone kind of teasing. 

 

“I like the view.”

 

“Whoa there, Casanova.”

 

Connor snorts. “I am the least smooth person on the planet, Evan. You know that. I know that.” He laughs. “Actually, I accidentally went on a date last week.”

 

Evan kind of frowns. “You did?”

 

“I’ll tell you about it in the morning,” Connor says, climbing into bed and gesturing for Evan to join him. “But I can say that I did spend most of talking about my cute, successful boyfriend on his fancy international business trip.”

 

“Okay,” says Evan sleepily, throwing his arms around Connor. “Missed you,” he murmurs. 

 

“I missed you, too.”

 

It’s a hell of a lot easier to fall asleep when Evan’s right there. 

 

It’s nearly midday when Connor wakes up, and Evan’s still sound asleep. He gets up as quietly as he can, smiling to himself as Evan mumbles something in his sleep about genomes. He gets dressed, heads out and buys some donuts and coffee to bring back to the apartment. 

 

Then he wakes Evan up as gently as he can. Unfortunately, it doesn’t prevent him from jolting awake, eyes wide and slightly terrified. “Hey,” Connor says quietly. “Sorry to wake you. I bought coffee?”

 

“It’s okay,” Evan says, shuffling a bit to sit up. He still looks a little pale. “Coffee sounds good.” He smiles. “Please tell me you got donuts, too.”

 

“Obviously,” he replies, handing both the coffee and the donuts over. He takes off his shoes and crawls back into bed, taking a moment to kiss Evan on the forehead. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Evan assures him, already halfway through a donut. “Oh my god. I swear I dreamed about these donuts while I was in China.”

 

“You sure you’re okay?” Connor ventures. “You seemed a bit freaked when I woke you up. Weird dreams?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan admits, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s just one of those things. I’m all good.”

 

“So tell me all about China,” says Connor, grabbing a donut for himself. “How was it?”

 

“I didn’t see as much as I’d like of Beijing,” Evan admits, “but I did a bit of exploring. Most of the time was taken up with work.”

 

“Any breakthroughs on the cure?” Connor asks hesitantly. “I’m sure you would have said something if you’d, you know, found it, but… just wanted to check in.”

 

“There are some interesting ideas,” Evan says, also a little hesitant. “It was good to get some discussion going with other scientists. But nothing solid, no.” He smiles a little ruefully. “Trying to explain it to you would bore you to tears, honestly. It’s all kind of dry and complicated, but… I’m positive we’ll get there.”

 

“And you start at DYAD full time on Monday, right?” Connor checks. 

 

“Yeah,” says Evan. “I just… wanted some time with you before jumping into it. It’s going to be pretty full on, I think.”

 

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

 

Evan looks at Connor, his expression guarded. “Of course I do.”

 

Connor sighs. “No, you don’t.”

 

“We can’t keep having the same argument about this,” says Evan, sounding more than a little frustrated. “I know you don’t think I can handle it-”

 

“Okay, when did I say that, exactly?”

 

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Evan snaps. “You don’t think I can handle the whole double-agent thing. Do I need to remind you that it was your idea in the first place?”

 

Connor feels those words like a slap in the face. “Whoa,” he says sharply. “Okay. I get that you’re jet-lagged, but there’s no reason to be a dick.”

 

“You don’t think I can handle it, do you?” Evan presses. “You don’t think I’m smart enough or strong enough or-”

 

“NO,” Connor practically yells. “No, that’s not it. I know you can handle it. You are handling it. And of course I think you’re smart and you’re strong. But it’s all too much. We didn’t know it was going to be like this when we asked you to play double-agent, Evan. We didn’t know they were going to throw you into the deep end like this.”

 

Evan stares at him for a moment, still clearly angry. “The more they throw me in the deep end, the more I can find out,” he says, his voice deceptively calm. “The better it is for all of you. I’m doing this for you.”

 

“You’ve dropped out of college for the semester,” Connor says, rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t… I didn’t want that.”

 

“It’s not dropping out, it’s independent study-”

 

“I’m afraid this is going to  _ get you killed,  _ Evan!” 

 

The words hang in the air, and the room quivers with the weight of them. It takes a long time before either of them dare to break the tension. 

 

“It’s happened to me before,” Connor says quietly. “In high school… Jerome got swept up in all this clone bullshit, and he got a bullet between his eyes. Right in front of me. And I… it was a fucking mess, it was all a fucking mess and I was so fucked up and didn’t deserve him, but I loved him, and I watched him die, and it nearly killed me. And I can’t go through it again, Evan. I just can’t. So, please. Please be careful, please don’t take any unnecessary risks. Go back to your environmental science program. Either quit the study, or scale it back, or something, just…. Please.”

 

Evan’s quiet for a long time. “I’ll go back to the environmental science program next semester,” he says quietly. “But if I all of a sudden quit this study and scale things back… it’s going to look bad. Especially since they’ve just sent me overseas. I promise I’ll be careful, and I won’t take unnecessary risks, and I’ll… I’ll scale things back after this semester, I promise. I will be as careful as I can possibly be.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’m going to save all of you. I am. At New Year’s, you told me you believed that.”

 

“I do believe that,” Connor says. He feels lost. He feels like he’s just run a marathon. He feels like he’s yelling at a brick wall, like he’s watching Evan die from across an abandoned warehouse and he can’t move, he can’t stop it, he can’t he can’t he can’t…

 

“I love you,” Evan says. Slowly. Deliberately. “I’m sorry I just blurted it out over the phone. I wanted to do it properly and I fucked it up.”

 

“I love you, too,” Connor replies. What else is there to say? “I love you, and I can’t lose you, so just… please think about it, okay? Please just… please stay with me.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Evan promises, and leans in to kiss him. 

 

Connor wants to believe that with everything he has. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	49. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor, August and Seamus navigate the immediate aftermath.

Connor’s not really here. 

 

He’s not really anywhere. 

 

He thinks he might be sitting on the sofa in Ben Childs’ apartment, and there might be a cup of tea in his hands and a blanket over his shoulders, but he can’t be sure. 

 

He might still be in an abandoned warehouse, watching the first boy he’s ever loved die. 

 

He doesn’t know.

 

He just doesn’t know. 

 

There are low voices around him, but he’s hearing them like they’re coming from underwater, and it’s all a total blur. 

 

He doesn’t think he’s drinking the tea, but all of a sudden he’s not holding the cup. 

 

Then he’s in Ben’s room and someone is handing him a water bottle and two pills, and he might recognize them as the ones he’s been taking for the last month, the ones that are apparently supposed to help fix his broken brain, and he takes them after he hears someone gently prompt him. 

 

His shoes are off. Does he remember taking off his shoes? He doesn’t know. He’s climbing under the covers, and there’s someone sitting on the edge of his bed, and there’s someone hovering in the doorway, and he can smell bleach and blood and something else he doesn’t know that might be the smell of his heart breaking, and who knew that even had a smell?

 

Someone touches his hair and says something that he thinks is supposed to be comforting. And maybe it is. Maybe it’s comfort, because it feels a little bit like being sick with the flu when he was little, and the feel in the room reminds him of his mom, but his mom thinks he’s dead and Jerome really is dead and…

 

He lies down and puts his head on the pillow and lets himself sleep.

 

* * *

 

His twin does not say anything. 

 

He has not said anything since Handsome Man was killed. 

 

August wants to scream and yell and rage. He wants Connor to do the same thing, because that will show he still has his spirit. 

 

He thinks that his spirit has been crushed. 

 

August will pray that it is fixed. 

 

Now that Tatiana is dead, maybe he can finally talk to God the way he has always wanted. 

 

Maybe God will show him what to do. 

 

The man with the sad eyes - his name is Seamus, but this is hard to say for August, so he has said August can call him S - has led Connor to a bed like a blind man. August watches from the doorway. It is a very nice bed. August has never seen a bed this nice. 

 

Or a house this nice. 

 

He feels like he does not belong. 

 

S looks at him, with his sad eyes, and asks gently if he can see August’s wound. 

 

He is still aching from his wound, but he thinks it is getting better. 

 

He does not want S and his sad eyes to see his wound. To be near him and his damaged flesh. But he would like S’s eyes to be less sad, so he allows this. 

 

S has gentle hands but August prepares to run if he needs to. S asks him gently if he can lift up his shirt so S can see the wound, and he does this. 

 

He likes that S asks. Tatiana would never ask. 

 

S frowns as he sees the wound and tells August he should take a shower to wash off the  _ bleach _ , so the wound has a better chance to heal, but that the water should not be too hot.

 

August does not know the word  _ bleach _ but does not ask because he does not want S to think he is stupid. 

 

Also, he does not know how to do the shower, because he has never used it. S guides him into the shower room and shows him how the lever works to make the water and gives him a towel. The towel is soft and smells nice.

 

Then he leaves the room and August is alone. Alone to bathe. Alone to wash. It is strange, but he likes it. He likes to know that it is only he and God who will see his broken flesh. 

 

He takes off his clothes and steps under the water, then closes the door. It is strange, to be in a box, water falling on him. He sees that the water by his feet is brown and red, and he realizes that he is covered in filth and is ashamed. 

 

There are many bottles of things on a shelf, and he tries them all. They smell very nice. He thinks they are like soap, and he uses them to wash all of him until the water by his feet is clear and no longer has filth. 

 

It takes some time, but he figures out how to turn off the water and dries himself with the towel. The towel is very soft. It is very nice. August thinks that in heaven, there will be towels like this.

 

There is a knock on the door, then it opens a crack. 

 

“August?” says S, his voice muffled by the door. “Here are some clean clothes for you. I’ll leave them on the floor for you, I promise I won’t come in.”

 

August is unsure, but then he sees a hand place a bundle of clothing on the floor, and the door shuts. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

 

This is all very strange. 

 

He puts on the clothes, marveling at how nice and soft they are. They are big on him, which is a surprise because he is sure these clothes belong to Ben, and they are supposed to be the same. 

 

The same. 

 

August does not know anymore. 

 

He knows that Connor has the light, but he does not know if he has a mission anymore. 

 

He does not think he wants to kill anymore, but he does not want to anger God if the mission he has been on all these years is truly holy. 

 

August wishes God would send him a sign. 

 

He likes the socks he has been given to wear. They are very nice socks. He does not think he has ever worn such nice socks before. They are soft and feel nice on his skin. 

 

The shirt feels nice on his skin, too. It is also soft. 

 

He touches his back. His wings are fading. He does not know what to do. Maybe he can find something to use to bring them back. He will ask S. 

 

It hurts, but Tatiana says that they will make him pure…

 

No. 

 

Tatiana was not of God. 

 

Perhaps this is not of God, also. 

 

August wishes God would send him a sign.

 

He leaves the shower room and goes back into the nice room, where there is sofa and other soft things. It is strange to be surrounded by so much softness. S sits on the sofa, and his eyes are still very sad. He is rubbing his shoulder absently. August recognizes this. 

 

“You are hurt,” he says with a frown. “I am sorry.”

 

“I’ll be fine, son,” says S. His voice is warm, even though his eyes are sad. 

 

“I will pray for healing,” August says, because he is not sure what else to say. 

 

S smiles. “I appreciate that.”

 

August is hesitant. “You are a believer?”

 

S’s smile fades. He looks serious. “Yes I am,” he says, and his words ring with truth. “Even though I don’t always understand what God’s doing, I believe.”

 

“Tatiana says I will be close to God by killing abominations,” August confesses. “That I cannot see God’s light without this.”

 

S looks troubled. “That’s not the God I know, August. And deep down, I think you know that, too.”

 

When he was small, Tatiana would tell him he must confess his sinful thoughts and would cleanse him with holy water and carving of wings. He thinks he had been with her for 3 years when she taught him to carve them himself. 

 

His wingless back itches, despite the softness of the clothes, and he feels far from the light. 

 

But he cannot ask S for a blade. 

 

Somehow, he thinks it would make his sad eyes sadder. 

 

He will find one soon. When he escapes and goes into the world. 

 

He suddenly understands that he does not know what comes next. 

 

“If I do not have holy mission,” August begins, his voice hesitant, “then I do not have purpose. If I do not have purpose, then I am worthless in the eyes of God and of all.”

 

S stares at him for a long while, shaking his head. It takes a while for him to speak, but when he does, his voice shakes. “You’re not worthless, August. You don’t need to have a holy mission to be worth something. You just need to be.”

 

This does not make sense. 

 

He has been told many things. 

 

He is a tool.

 

He is a weapon. 

 

He knows how to kill. How to hurt. How to steal and to survive so he can fulfill his purpose. 

 

But without his purpose, he has no reason to do these things. 

 

Without his purpose, he is just a broken flesh vessel. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” S says. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”

 

August knows tears. 

 

He knows tears from pain, because pain is familiar to him. When Tatiana gives him pain and he has tears, she tells him that pain is from God as a punishment, and tears show that pain is real. 

 

He knows he is broken and sinful and damaged. 

 

He thinks that S and his sad eyes should not feel like this. 

 

He thinks that S and his sad eyes should not feel pain. 

 

Perhaps it is his shoulder, but August knows that it is a different pain. It is a pain in the heart. 

 

He feels it, too. 

 

He does not know what to do, so he sits on the couch and looks at his socks while S cries. 

 

It does not take long for him to finish. 

 

“Right,” says S, sniffing. “I think you could use some sleep. Let me show you the guest room.”

 

He follows S to a room with a bed. A big bed, that is above the floor, and looks more soft that anything else. It is not scratchy, it is not too hard, there are many blankets and pillows and August shakes his head. 

 

“I cannot sleep here,” he insists. “It is too much. I can sleep on floor.”

 

S looks at him with those sad, sad eyes. “If you really want to sleep on the floor, you can,” he says. His voice is gentle. “But you’re injured, and deserve a real bed. You’ll feel better if you sleep in a real bed, son.”

 

August runs his hand over the blanket. Soft. So soft. He likes that it is soft, but he feels like he is unworthy. Unclean. Too broken for this. 

 

“I do not know,” he admits. He looks at S. “You want that I sleep here, yes?”

 

“It’s up to you,” S says. “But yes, I’d like to know you’re comfortable.”

 

“This is kindness,” August says. “Much kindness.”

 

“It’s fine,” S insists. He goes to the door. “Will you be alright? If I come back tomorrow?”

 

August frowns. “You do not stay here?”

 

He does not understand. Is this not his house?

 

“I don’t live here,” he says gently. “This is Ben’s house, but his parents aren’t home a lot. They travel, and… I work downstairs, which is how I know Connor.”

 

“Connor pretends to be Ben,” August confirms. “Because he has no family like me?”

 

S looks sad. “It’s confusing. We can talk about it tomorrow if you like.” He goes to the door, then hesitates and looks back at August. “Would you like it if I stayed here? I can sleep on the couch. Would it… would it make you feel safer?”

 

August thinks on this. 

 

He does not remember feeling safe. 

 

Not since the monastery, and the monks who were quiet and careful and taught him about God’s holy word. 

 

With Tatiana, he is not safe. 

 

He thinks about S and his sad eyes. 

 

And his tears and his pain. 

 

And how he showed him how the shower goes, and gave him clothes that are soft, and showed him a bed that is soft. 

 

S is gentle and good, and asks before he touches, and guides Connor to sleep in a bed so he can rest and mend his broken spirit. 

 

“You are safe,” August says. The words are unfamiliar in his mouth. “If you stay, it will be safe.”

 

“Okay,” says S. He nods and goes to close the door. “I’ll be in the lounge if you need me,” he says. “Sleep tight.”

 

“Don’t let bed bugs bite,” August replies. He hears this somewhere and thinks it is funny. 

 

S laughs, and his eyes look a little less sad. 

 

* * *

 

It takes Seamus a long time to get to sleep that night. He knows he should be resting, but it’s hard, because every single cell in his body is buzzing with tension. 

 

He’s under the same roof as his boys. 

 

After all this time. 

 

He takes the blankets and pillows from the master bedroom, briefly considering sleeping in the barely used king sized bed, but ultimately decides against it. If he’s on the sofa, he’ll be able to hear if the boys need him. 

 

At 3 am, there’s a text from one of his contacts. They’ve cleaned the warehouse the best they can of any evidence of August, Connor and Seamus, and have disposed of Tatiana’s body, because no one will be looking for her. However, they’ve left Jerome there and made an anonymous tip so the police will find his body. 

 

They’ve also planted drugs in his pockets, because… well, Seamus hadn’t known this, but apparently, Jerome was heavily involved in the drug trade. Getting a bullet between the eyes isn’t the nicest way to go, but it’s also not completely out of the ordinary for a drug dealer, and…

 

Seamus doesn’t really want to think about it. He barely knows Jerome but had always thought he was a nice kid, a good friend to Ben. Reading between the lines, he thinks there might have been something going on between Jerome and Ben.

 

He’s almost positive there was something going on between Jerome and Connor, and Connor’s near catatonic state after he was killed seems like proof. 

 

God, what a mess. 

 

And then there’s August. Confused, broken August, who’s never had a shower, who kept touching the clothes like they were the nicest thing he’d ever felt, who didn’t think he deserved to sleep in an actual bed. 

 

August, who shot one of his clones point blank and very nearly killed Connor. 

 

August, covered in bleach with a gunshot wound in his side, locked in a cage. 

 

Seamus’s heart is in a million pieces. 

 

He can’t see how he can put it back together. 

 

He can’t see how he can give August peace, how he can help him recover from everything that’s been done to him. 

 

He can’t see how he can bring Connor back to himself, how he can help heal his broken heart, how he can help him recover from all the trauma and pain he’s seen. 

 

But he’s going to have to figure it out. 

 

Because these are his boys. And that’s what dads do. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	50. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reed settles in at DYAD.

Life’s getting pretty hectic for Reed, but they’re kind of glad they’re not Evan right now because things for him seem to be even more insane. 

 

It’s weird for Reed not to see Evan in class anymore. They’d passed the terrestrial biology class with flying colors thanks to Evan’s notes, and are seriously missing him in the human bioscience class he was supposed to taking with them this semester. 

 

Reed doesn’t know how they feel about Evan going full-time DYAD. It’s a tense subject. Connor had come down for the weekend and every time DYAD was even mentioned, he would suddenly start talking about something else and Evan would tense up. 

 

So naturally, Reed talks to his clone about it. Because there’s clearly something weird going on, and Reed wants Connor and Evan’s relationship to work and will be damned if DYAD’s general fuckery gets in the way of it. Once he manages to get his clone alone to chat, the floodgates come bursting open and Connor admits, voice shaking, that he’s terrified Evan’s in too deep and is going to get himself killed. 

 

Reed gets it. They can see that the DYAD stuff is intense. They can see that Evan’s getting more and more involved, and they can also see why Connor is genuinely freaking out. Reed’s seen Connor lose someone he loves firsthand, and knows how deeply and personally Connor felt that loss in the past and can understand the fear he must be feeling right now. 

 

And yet…

 

Reed knows that Evan will do anything to find a cure, and while they worry for their friend, it’s also a source of comfort. Because if Evan’s working so hard to find a cure for the illness, then it has to all work out. It just has to, because if Lucas is showing symptoms… 

 

Evan insists that everything’s fine, that he’s working hard on the cure and that he’s promised Connor he’ll scale things back at DYAD next semester. He’s working long hours, and they’re seeing less and less of him. Reed gets why Connor’s asked Evan to scale things back at DYAD, they understand the fear, but they worry that the request has somewhat backfired. 

 

That Evan is going to work himself to the bone to find a cure before the end of the semester. That Evan doesn’t see it as a point where he steps back and lets someone else take over, that he sees it as a deadline. 

 

Then again, a deadline might not be a bad thing, because if Lucas is showing symptoms…

 

That means the clock is ticking. 

 

Reed’s own research on the clone illness is… frustrating. During their internship hours, they can tell they’re not being given the whole picture, and what they are given is confusing and hard to follow. Knowing what they know, Reed can extrapolate what’s happening in a vague way, but it would all be so much easier if they just had a higher security clearance. 

 

They spend a lot of time in Skype discussion with Hannah, who is finding things similarly frustrating. Hannah mentions, almost off-handedly, that there’s a lot of missing information for something that’s supposed to be completely theoretical, and isn’t it weird that they’re looking at identical genomes? She’s asking a lot of questions about the science, about the results they’re looking for, about the strangeness of the sequencing requests, and Reed doesn’t know how to answer them. 

 

They bring it up with Evan exactly once, and Evan goes pale and nearly has a panic attack, right there in the coffee room at DYAD. (Reed’s noticed that Evan’s drinking far more coffee than is healthy these days, and also not eating as much. He seems to be running on pure adrenaline, and… well, Reed’s concerned. They briefly consider giving Connor a head’s up that Evan’s working himself to the bone, but knowing how Connor feels about the whole DYAD situation, they worry that it’ll just make things worse between the couple.)

 

At any rate, Reed and Hannah are given a bit more information to work with after the discussion with Evan, and while it doesn’t answer all the questions, it answers some, and Hannah seems to catch on pretty quickly that asking too many questions isn’t the smartest thing to do. 

 

Reed likes working with her, though. She’s smart, she’s methodical, she’s got a clear, concise way of explaining things and when she makes a connection from point A to point B, she knows exactly how to show how she got there. For someone like Reed who's thought process is a little more scattered, it’s appreciated. 

 

Dr. McAllistair adores Hannah and is constantly singing her praises to both Reed and Evan. Dr. McAllistair bounces between the DYAD complex in Vermont and the one near their university, which seems like it would be inconvenient but both places are set up for working via Skype and it’s almost seamless. Still, she’s promised to get all of them in the same room at least once a month, because there’s something about face to face and in person that still can’t be beat. 

 

Reed’s more and more convinced as February rolls around that they need to do something at the end of the month to mark the clone’s birthdays. Lucas has the first birthday on the 3rd, Reed’s is on the 19th. Connor always has a complicated time - his birthday is on the 15th, but Ben’s is on the 8th, so he tends to celebrate somewhere in the middle of that week. Torpedo is a leap year baby, much to the amusement of everyone, having been born on the 29th of February in the year 2000. (In 2021, instead of turning 21 like the rest of them, he’s technically only just over 5 years old.)

 

Reed starts planning. They talk to Momma L’s sister Caroline, who has a lake house out of state that doesn’t get much use in the winter. She’s more than happy to lend it to Reed and their friends to celebrate their 21st, as long as the house is still standing at the end. They confirm with the rest of the group and it’s decided that the last weekend of February is when they’ll sort it out. 

 

Then they go to Dr. McAllistair and tell them, very frankly, that both Reed and Evan need the Friday and the Monday surrounding that weekend off work, and she’s more than happy to oblige because she’s not an idiot and can see that Evan could definitely use a holiday. 

 

Evan’s not quite as thrilled about this. They’re at Reed’s apartment for a meal after work when Reed tells him what’s going on. It’s taking them a lot of persuading to get Evan to both leave work on time and actually agree to have a meal with them, and they’re watching Evan like a hawk, making sure he’s actually eating the stir-fry Reed cooked because then at least they know he’s eating. 

 

“It’s a nice idea,” he says when Reed tells him about the party, “but there’s so much to do and we’re not even close to a breakthrough and-”

 

“A weekend away is going to be good for you,” Reed insists. “It’s not for a few weeks, it’s going to be chilled out and low stress, you’re going to get to see Connor and spend some quality time with him, and it’s completely away from everything so you’ll get a much-needed break.”

 

“We don’t have time to take a break,” Evan shoots back.

 

“You’re exhausted,” Reed says frankly. “You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating properly, you’re drinking too much coffee and you’re barely functioning. You’ve been non-stop since you started at DYAD full time and even before then, you were doing too much. If you don’t take time to rest, you’re never going to get the results you want. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that the best thing you can do is take a holiday and come back to work refreshed. Dr. McAllistair agrees with me.”

 

“She what?”

 

“Well, she approved your leave, so-”

 

“You put through  _ leave _ for this?” Evan asks incredulously. “How much leave?”

 

“Just Friday and Monday.”

 

“Oh my god, that’s… no, I can just come up and meet you for the Saturday and Sunday, I can’t-”

 

“It’s approved paid leave,” Reed says firmly. “Dr. McAllistair wouldn’t have approved it if she really couldn’t spare you.”

 

“You don’t get it, I-”

 

“You what? You think you’re the only person who can do this? There’s a whole team of people, scientists across the world,” Reed points out, more than a little frustrated with his friend. 

 

“What if while we’re away, there’s a breakthrough and then DYAD refuses to treat the sick clones?” Evan spits out. 

 

Reed’s taken aback. 

 

They’re genuinely surprised by this. 

 

“You think that’s what’s going to happen?” they ask gently. 

 

“I think that DYAD has good people in it,” Evan says, running his hand through his hair distractedly, “but that DYAD itself… it values the science more than the people. And I… look, there’s a lot going on that you don’t know about and I… it’s complicated, but if I’m there and I’ve got an understanding of what’s going on, if I get all the information I can and funnel it through to Torpedo, then we’ve got a record of everything and if all of a sudden it’s shut down, we have somewhere to work from and… I can’t take the risk of something happening.”

 

“You really don’t trust DYAD,” Reed says, almost to themself. “You really, really don’t.” They look at Evan, who just looks… so defeated. “You were the one who said I should give the internship a go.”

 

“There are good people within DYAD,” Evan says again. “There are. I know it. You, Kylie, Hannah, along with others. And the science… if you stick to the science, then it’s all got to come together. But there’s not just science at play here. There’s politics, and money, and governments and power plays and… everything we do in those labs, it’s not really ours. It could be taken away at any moment, and I… I have to be there to make sure nothing gets missed.”

 

Reed sighs. “Evan, I get it. I really do. But you need to take a break. I know you think you can’t, I know it’s hard, and I get it, I get why you’re scared. But I’m afraid that if you don’t take a break, you’ll just break down. And if you break down, then it’s… it’ll be a whole lot worse, and you know it.” They look at Evan, trying to make him understand. “You can’t save us by destroying yourself.”

 

Evan sighs and seems to deflate. “I know,” he says. “I know, I’m just… I’m so scared.”

 

Reed sighs as well. “I’m calling Connor.”

 

“No,” Evan says firmly, shaking his head. “No, that’s not… no. He’ll just be mad, he’s already… no.”

 

Reed’s already got their phone out. “Eat your broccoli,” they say to Evan, then lock themself in the bedroom so Evan can’t take the phone from them. 

 

Connor answers almost immediately. “Hey.”

 

“Evan needs sleep.”

 

“Okay,” says Connor. Reed can hear him frowning over the phone. “Do I need to come down?”

 

“Yes,” Reed says firmly. “He’s… look, the DYAD stuff is intense, and I know you’ve got your worries about it, and so does he, and it’s a mess, but right now I think the best thing for both of you is to just… make sure he gets some sleep. I don’t think he’s sleeping.”

 

Connor sighs. “Yeah, I got that impression. It’s… it’s hard, being so far away, and not being able to… dammit, I knew this was going to happen. I knew he was going to… does he know you called me?”

 

“Yeah. He’s here at the moment.” Reed sighs. “Just make sure he sleeps, okay?”

 

“I’m getting in my car now,” Connor assures him. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do you want me to go to yours or to Evan’s?”

 

“I’ll get him to his place,” Reed promises. “We’ll see you there.”

 

When Reed goes back into his living room, Evan’s finished his stir-fry. He sighs. “Connor’s coming, isn’t he?”

 

“To your place,” Reed confirms. “We can head there now and wait for him.”

 

Evan just kind of nods wearily. Reed puts the dishes in the sink, then they leave the apartment and drive to Evan’s. When they get to Evan’s, Reed starts tidying up because the place is a mess. There are research papers everywhere in no particular semblance of order and while it’s pretty obvious Evan hasn’t really been cooking actual meals, there are bowls and bowls and bowls of what looks like half-eaten cereal. 

 

Evan stares at the room. He’s obviously too tired to argue. “I’m going to bed,” he says. “Tell Connor he doesn’t have to stay, I…”

 

He doesn’t even finish the sentence, he just leaves the room. 

 

Reed has just finished the dishes when he hears a knock on the door and goes to let Connor in. Connor looks almost as tired as Evan. 

 

“Is he okay?” Connor asks again. 

 

“He’s in bed,” Reed tells him. “I don’t know if he’s sleeping, but he’s at least lying down. He’s been working really hard, and…”

 

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Connor mutters. “I knew that him going full time at DYAD was a bad idea. He just… he insisted, and he said it’s only going to be this semester, and I…”

 

Connor trails off, and Reed debates telling him what Evan said about the illness. 

 

There’s something Evan’s not telling them. 

 

There’s something else going on, and Reed can’t put their finger on it. 

 

But they don’t think that now is the time for Connor and Evan to be arguing about it. 

 

“I know this is a hot-button issue for you guys,” Reed says instead. “The whole DYAD thing. I know you’re afraid he’ll get hurt, and I know he’s afraid you’ll get sick and die, and it’s all just… it’s a fucking mess. But right now, what you need to do is just be there, because he’s going to sleep better if you’re there, and I think you are too, and you can just… you can argue about this shit another day, okay?”

 

Connor nods. “Yeah.” He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“I’ll let them know he’ll be in for a half day tomorrow,” Reed says gently. “Just… try and turn off his alarm. He’ll freak out, but he’ll be better off for it.”

 

Connor rubs his face. “Okay. Okay.” He looks at Reed, expression a little desperate. “You know this is just a band-aid, right? He’s just going to keep on pushing himself if we don’t do something.”

 

“We’ve got leave for the 21st party,” Reed assures Connor. “That’ll be four days in the middle of nowhere, away from DYAD, away from all of this. Maybe all of us together can talk some sense into him, okay? You can hang on for a few more weeks?”

 

Connor nods. “Okay. Okay.” 

 

He pulls Reed in for a hug. It’s a little unexpected, as Connor’s not the most physically affectionate of them, but it’s not unwelcome. Reed makes sure to hold on nice and tight. Connor looks like he needs it. 

 

“Get some sleep,” Reed says quietly. “I’ll let myself out.”

 

Connor disappears into Evan’s room and Reed heads out into the night, setting off on the walk back to their apartment. 

 

They can all hang on for a few more weeks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)
> 
> Updates might not be as frequent as they have been over the next few days, just a head's up! I have three performances in a row and will be busy rehearsing. 
> 
> I'll probably still keep procrastinating the stuff I should be doing and writing because... I really love this fic.


	51. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus, August and Connor muddle through. Reed helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Talk of self-harm, guys. It's not fun. Please stay safe.

Connor wakes up to the sound of Ben’s alarm clock. 

 

He dimly realizes it’s Monday morning. 

 

Fuck. 

 

It’s Monday morning. 

 

It genuinely cannot be Monday morning. He can’t cope with it being Monday morning. Not after everything that’s happened in the last two days. 

 

Not after…

 

He manages to get to a trash can before violently vomiting for a solid five minutes. He dimly recognizes a knock on the door, then a comforting hand on his back, and when he’s finally done emptying the contents of his stomach, he wipes his mouth and sees Seamus kneeling beside him, a look of concern on his face. 

 

“You okay, son?” says Seamus gently. 

 

“Not really,” he admits, voice a little hoarse.

 

“Shall I get you a glass of water?”

 

Connor just nods and crawls back to sit on the edge of his bed. 

 

He takes a deep breath in. 

 

He lets it out slowly. 

 

He does this over and over again until the churning in his stomach calms down at least a little. 

 

Seamus hands him a glass of water and he sips it slowly. He kind of feels like he did that time when he was twelve and his parents took him and Zoe on a boat ride. Zoe loved it, but Connor was sick the whole time. He’s not good on boats. 

 

He’s on solid ground but he’s seasick, and it could be because he feels like he’s in the middle of a storm. 

 

He knows Jerome is dead, but his mind doesn’t want to touch that thought. It’s like a hot stove top - every time his mind drifts to the thought, it burns and recoils and goes somewhere else, because it’s too hot and it’s too painful and it’s all just too much - 

 

Connor throws up in the trash can again. 

 

And the whole time, Seamus is there, saying gentle comforting things and rubbing his back, and Connor’s insanely grateful because he doesn’t know what would happen if he were alone right now. 

 

“Back to bed, I think,” Seamus says gently once Connor has finished throwing up. “I’ll clean the trash can, you just lie down.”

 

“It’s Monday,” Connor says weakly. 

 

“Yeah, you’re not going to school,” Seamus says, his tone firm. “I’ll call and let them know you’re off for the week.”

 

Connor doesn’t want to think about how much school he’s missed. He caught up relatively easily after his week off when Guy died, but he shouldn’t do it again if he wants to…

 

What the fuck. 

 

Connor doesn’t care about shit like that. 

 

Ben does, though. 

 

“I shouldn’t…” 

 

He trails off because he actually doesn’t know how that sentence is going to end. 

 

_ I shouldn’t miss school. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I shouldn’t be alive right now when Jerome is… _

 

It’s the hot stove top, all over again. 

 

Wearily, he climbs back into bed, and Seamus gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Seamus goes back into the living room, he sees August hovering awkwardly in the doorway of the guest room. He makes sure to smile at him, and August smiles back. It doesn’t sit on his face quite right, like he’s not used to it, and that’s more than a little heart-breaking. 

 

Seamus resolves not to think about it. If he thinks about it too hard, he’s just going to realize more and more things that are utterly heart-breaking about August and he’s not going to be able to get anything done. 

 

He’s got to be strong. 

 

“Did you sleep okay?” Seamus asks. 

 

August looks a little hesitant. “Bed is very soft,” he replies, his voice quiet. “It is strange. But I have rested.”

 

Seamus nods, then goes to the kitchen and tries to figure out what he can scrounge up for a meal. August looks… confused. “Let’s get you some breakfast,” Seamus says, and August’s eyes light up. “I’m not sure what’s here, but I’m sure we can figure it out.” 

 

He manages to scrounge up some eggs and finds some bread in the freezer. Before he can do anything, August grabs the bag of bread and starts eating frozen slices like he hasn’t eaten in months. 

 

Seamus is starting to get used to the tightness in his chest and it’s not okay. 

 

It’s not okay this kid - _his kid_ \- is starving. 

 

He makes some coffee and then sets about cooking some eggs. He doesn’t dare take the bread away from August, but he does find another loaf in the freezer and starts making toast. Soon there’s a plate of eggs on toast in front of August and his eyes widen at the sight. He closes his eyes and mumbles something in what must be Ukrainian, then digs in. 

 

It’s gone within minutes. 

 

Seamus takes a deep breath and tries to ease the tightness in his chest at least a little. “What say I go out and get donuts?” he says, trying to keep his tone light. 

 

August breaks into a brilliant smile, and this time it’s a little more comfortable on his face. It’s all dirty teeth and chapped lips and sallow skin, but his smile still makes Seamus relax a little. “I like donuts,” he says enthusiastically. “We save some for Connor, yes?”

 

Seamus nods, and resolves to get as many fucking donuts as he can afford. 

 

As he’s leaving the apartment, he pulls out his cellphone and hovers over a contact he put in only weeks ago. He thinks about it for a moment, then dials the number. 

 

“Hello?” comes the response on the other line, a little confused. 

 

“Reed, hi,” says Seamus, a little hesitantly. “It’s Seamus. I’m calling about Connor.”

 

“Is he okay?” Reed asks immediately. “What’s happened?” Seamus explains, as quickly as possible, and Reed’s silent on the other end of the line, until suddenly they’re not. “I’ll be on the next bus to New York. And I’ll let the others know.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Seamus says, a little reluctantly. “August is… he’s fragile, and I don’t know how he’d react to… another one.”

 

Reed’s quiet for a moment, then speaks up. “I don’t mean to offend, but I kind of don’t care? I need to see for myself that Connor’s okay. This is… it’s so soon after… I don’t want him to do anything stupid.”

 

“I won’t let that happen,” Seamus vows. 

 

“Neither will I,” Reed shoots back. “I’ll see you later today.”

 

The call ends and Seamus sighs. “This could be interesting,” he murmurs to himself, then goes to buy a fuckton of donuts. 

 

* * *

 

When Connor wakes up a second time, he ventures out into the living room. Seamus is sitting on the sofa next to August, who is enraptured by something on the television and is covered in powdered sugar. There are 2 empty boxes of donuts next to him and he’s eating popcorn. 

 

Upon closer inspection, Connor recognizes the movie. 

 

“It is the Space Jam,” says August enthusiastically. “I see this when I am small. We watch it on small screen together from box and eat  pampushka _. _ It is good film, yes?”

 

“Sure,” says Connor, too tired to argue. He sits down on the sofa next to Seamus, who smiles at him gently. 

 

“How are you holding up, son?” Seamus says quietly. 

 

Connor’s noticed that Seamus is using the term ‘son’ an awful lot. It’s like he’s trying to make up for lost time. He appreciates it, but… it’s still kind of weird. 

 

Larry Murphy is Connor’s only real frame of reference for dads, and Seamus Sadler is just… different. Softer, but fiercer. Warmer, but more protective. It’s… Connor doesn’t really know how to put it. It’s weird, but he’s glad Seamus is here. 

 

“I’m okay,” Connor says, equally quietly. “I’m… I don’t think it’s really hit me yet.”

 

“Reed’s on their way,” Seamus informs him. “They should be here soon.”

 

Connor kind of starts at that. He shoots August a look, who is distracted by Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny having some kind of conversation. Then he looks back at Seamus. “Is that a good idea?”

 

Seamus kind of sighs. “I don’t know. But they wouldn’t take no for an answer. They’re worried about you.”

 

“Reed’s kind of stubborn,” Connor points out. 

 

“What is Reed?” says August curiously. “It is not like books, no?”

 

Connor looks at Seamus. He doesn’t think he has the energy to get into this. “Reed’s another one of your clones, August. They’re on their way here.”

 

August jolts. Every part of his body tenses up, like a snake about to strike. “Abomination,” he says, almost to himself. Then he shakes his head. “No. No. No, no, no, no, no.”

 

“Reed won’t hurt you,” Connor finds himself saying. “They just want to help.”

 

August’s eyes are wide and full of fear. “The demons,” he says forcefully. “The demons in the abominations will keep me from God. That is what I know. That is what I am taught.”

 

“Reed’s not a demon,” Seamus says, his voice patient but firm. “Reed isn’t going to hurt you. We wouldn’t let anyone in who would hurt you.”

 

“I do not want to kill,” August says stubbornly. “But I must pray on this. Pray for holy guidance.”

 

Seamus looks a little lost, but he nods. “If you need to pray on it, then that’s okay.”

 

Connor’s never been a religious person. Ever. His family is technically Catholic, but it’s definitely a Christmas and Easter kind of thing rather than an every Sunday kind of thing. Weirdly, he knows that he had a Catholic funeral - there’d been a whole argument about it on the audio files from his house after he died. He remembers his mom insisting he have a proper Catholic funeral, his dad saying something about the priest making some comment about suicide being unforgivable and how that didn’t sit well with him, and Zoe saying in a low, angry voice that Connor deserved to rot in hell. His mom had burst into tears - big, long, heart-breaking sobs, and he’d heard both his dad and Zoe crying too, and it had been… all a bit too much to handle. 

 

No wonder he’d gotten super high and fucked Jerome. 

 

Jerome. 

 

There it is. The burning. He swallows uncomfortably. 

 

“If praying gives you peace, then you should do it, Gus,” he finds himself saying absently. 

 

August looks at him, eyes wide. “Gus?”

 

Connor hadn’t even realized he’d said it. “Sorry,” he says, a little panicked. “Sorry, it just slipped out. I’m sorry August, I won’t-”

 

“I have never had nickname,” his twin interrupts. “Gus. It is good to say, yes? It is short, and it is new. I can be Gus.”

 

“Okay,” Connor says, a little taken aback. “If you want, I can call you Gus.”

 

Gus smiles. His smile is a little sad. Then there’s a knock on the door, and Gus’s smile drops immediately. He stands up, spilling popcorn everywhere, and rushes to the guest room and closes the door. 

 

Seamus hangs his head for a moment before going to get the door. There’s Reed, in all their Reed-like glory, dressed in a truly insane bright orange fur coat that looks like someone killed and skinned one of the Muppets. Reed lets themself in and heads straight to Connor. 

 

“Are you okay?” they say immediately. 

 

Connor stands up and lets his clone hug him tightly. Despite the insanity of the coat, it’s nice and soft and kind of improves the hug, so Connor decides he doesn’t completely hate it. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “Seamus told you about…”

 

Jerome. 

 

The red-hot burn of it all. 

 

“He did,” Reed says softly. They look around. “Is August here?”

 

“He’s in the guest room,” Seamus says quietly. “He’s… he’s kind of freaked out that you’re here, I think.”

 

Reed kind of fiddles with their lip piercing with their teeth. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry he’s freaked out, but…” They trail off and sit next to Reed on the sofa, then pull out a laptop from their bag. “I’ve talked to Torpedo and Lucas. Torpedo wanted us to Skype him as soon as I arrived here, are you up for it?”

 

Connor just shrugs. He doesn’t really know, but if it makes Torpedo feel like he’s doing something, then… “Alright.”

 

* * *

 

While Reed and Connor Skype Torpedo, Seamus decides it’s best to give them some privacy. He cleans up the popcorn from the floor, does some dishes and notices the untouched box of donuts on the kitchen bench. August had been eyeing them hungrily, but had refused to eat them, because they were for “Connor and his broken spirit.”

 

Under everything, Seamus thinks August is a sweet kid. A sweet kid who doesn’t deserve any of what’s happened to him. Who doesn’t deserve what he’s become. A kid who’s confused and doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but has been told over and over again that it’s what God wants. A kid who’s got a big heart that’s been broken and worn down. 

 

A kid who has been literally tortured and brainwashed. 

 

A kid who knows how to kill. 

 

August is dangerous, but Seamus just knows he’s not too far gone to redeem. To rehabilitate. To give peace. 

 

It’s been nearly half an hour since August disappeared into the guest room, and Seamus wants to give him his privacy but is also… concerned. He’s just going to peak in, he tells himself. Just to make sure he’s safe. 

 

He knocks the guest room door gently, then lets himself in, and his heart almost stops at the sight. 

 

August is shirtless, holding a knife he must have got from the kitchen, and he’s carving wings into his back. Deep, bloody wings. 

 

Seamus thinks for a moment he’s going to be sick. 

 

He’s paralyzed. He can’t do anything except watch. 

 

Then August hisses in pain and it cuts through the shock. He rushes toward him and tries to take the knife from his hand, but August is quick. Soon he’s got Seamus in a headlock and has the knife against his throat. 

 

Seamus stays very still. 

 

“You’re okay,” Seamus says gently. “It’s okay. You don’t need to hurt yourself. You don’t need to hurt anyone. It’s not what God wants.”

 

August takes in a shuddering breath, then drops the knife like it’s burned him. He pulls away from Seamus violently, his eyes wild and unfocused. Seamus goes to say something but he bolts, running to the corner of the room and curls up, his arms around his knees. 

 

Seamus sees, rather than hears when he starts sobbing. His whole body shakes. He can see his back covered with open wounds and blood, and it’s the most horrifying thing Seamus can imagine. He quietly but quickly goes to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and some towels, then goes back into the guest room. 

 

Connor catches his eye as he passes him but Seamus just shakes his head. 

 

This isn’t something Connor needs right now. 

 

Seamus sets about gently cleaning August’s wounds, talking in a low comforting voice as he does. “You’re okay, son. You’re okay. You don’t need to hurt. This isn’t what God wants, I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

 

“I am so far from the light,” August manages to choke out through silent sobs. “God has forgotten me.”

 

“He hasn’t,” Seamus insisted. “He hasn’t. And neither have I.”

 

This is going to be harder than he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	52. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Connor relax. Evan makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place right after @nosecoffee's brilliant 'of most excellent fancy', which is part 4 of the One of a Kind series. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND you read it first, as this chapter will make a lot more sense if you do. Also because it's great.

Evan’s still out like a light when Connor wakes up. He checks his phone to see it’s just after 10am, which just proves that his boyfriend really needed the fucking sleep because he’s usually an early riser.

 

Then again, Evan had been up most of the night with more fucking clone shenanigans, and somehow Jared Kleinman’s involved, which is the last thing anyone needs right now. Turns out there’s a clone with a ridiculous name playing the guitar on the streets of Buenos Aires. Evan probably should have just told Jared he was losing his mind, but instead he met the clone by Skype and determined he was sick.

 

Another one.

 

Another sick clone.

 

This one’s name is Yorick, and Connor’s English lit major nerd side wants to make the obvious joke.

 

Connor looks at Evan for a long moment. Evan’s frowning in his sleep.

 

Connor doesn’t like this at all.

 

He briefly considers waking him up and trying to distract Evan from whatever’s going on in his head (preferably with his dick) but Connor’s fairly certain that when Evan wakes up, he’s just going to freak out that he’s not at work.

 

And he looks so fucking tired.

 

Instead, Connor wraps himself around Evan as gently as he can, hoping that maybe the physical contact will get his expression to relax a little. It seems to work - Evan lets out a little sigh and then kind of moves closer, and Connor finds himself relaxing a bit as well and drifts off to sleep for a little longer.

 

It’s nearly midday when Evan jolts awake in his arms, which wakes Connor up immediately, and he sits up, utterly frantic. “Shit,” he says urgently. “Shit, shit, shit.”

 

“Language,” Connor mock-scolds. “Reed’s called you in sick today, you needed the rest.”

 

“I have to go the airport,” Evan says insistently. “I have to get Jared and Yorick from the airport and then Jared’s going to want answers and he’s going to want to come back here and you cannot be here right now, Connor.”

 

Connor sits up and tries not to scowl.

 

It’s just so fucking unfair that a guy who thinks he’s been dead for three years can still cockblock him.

 

“Okay,” Connor says, keeping his voice level. “When’s their flight coming in?”

 

Evan fumbles around his nightstand and Connor looks over. Evan’s got… a lot of phones. There are genuinely four phones on his nightstand. Connor tries to puzzle it out. There’s his regular phone, his clone phone, a DYAD phone and…

 

“What’s the fourth phone for?” Connor asks.

 

Evan freezes up a little. “It’s a second DYAD phone,” he says, in this weird high tone that Connor kind of remembers from high school in a computer lab, accompanied by a panicked laugh. “Things are getting weird.”

 

Connor doesn’t know if he believes Evan.

 

That’s a weird feeling.

 

He tries to shake it off. Evan’s got a lot going on with DYAD, it’s not outside the realm of possibility. “The flight?” Connor presses gently.

 

“Right,” says Evan, grabbing what Connor thinks is his regular phone. He reads a message, then audibly relaxes. “Okay, it’s in at 5. There’s time.” He moves to stand up. “I should go to work.”

 

“Nope,” says Connor, grabbing his arm and gently pulling him back to bed. “You’ve got the day off. You’re going to be flat out once Kleinman’s annoying ass gets here, take a break.”

 

“Connor.”

 

“Evan.” Connor pulls him closer and kisses his neck. “Come on. You’re stressed out of your mind by all of this. Just… relax for a bit, okay?”

 

Evan rolls over and grabs Connor to kiss him properly, and Connor’s last coherent thought is relief before they’re all tangled limbs and heated kisses and he’s so wrapped up in Evan that he can’t think about anything else.

 

Evan kind of dozes off for a bit afterward and he’s not frowning in his sleep anymore, which Connor is counting as a win. He takes the opportunity to have a shower and then try to scrounge up something in Evan’s kitchenette to cook.

 

Connor’s not leaving until he’s seen Evan eat something.

 

He finds bacon in the freezer and defrosts it in the microwave, even though he shouldn’t, then finds some eggs that don’t seem to be expired and cooks them up. Then he makes coffee and takes the whole lot back to Evan’s bedroom, where Evan seems to be stirring.

 

They eat breakfast and Evan asks Connor questions about his classes between every mouthful. Connor kind of wants to ask his own questions in response, but he gets what Evan’s trying to do. He’s trying to keep the conversation away from the clone conspiracy.

 

Which is appreciated, to be honest. Sometimes it’s overwhelming.

 

Not for the first time, Connor regrets bringing Evan into this mess.

 

Except he doesn’t. Not really. Because if Evan wasn’t involved with clone club, then Evan wouldn’t be with Connor, and Connor can’t think of anything worse than never having had this.

 

Well, that’s not true either.

 

It’d be worse if he'd had Evan in his life but then lost him because the DYAD Institute put a bullet between Evan’s eyes.

 

He takes another bite of his eggs to try to settle the sudden churning in his stomach.

 

“I really should go to work,” Evan says reluctantly. “Give them a head’s up about Yorick. Figure out something to say to Jared that’s going to make some sort of sense without dragging him into this.”

 

“Not having to deal with Jared fucking Kleinman is one of the only good things about being dead,” Connor says frankly. “I mean, of course I want to help a sick clone, but… Kleinman? Really?”

 

“He seems fairly invested,” Evan says, his tone somewhat thoughtful.

 

Connor scowls. “He better not be fucking my clone. _Please_ don’t tell me he’s fucking my clone.” Evan goes to say something, and Connor stops him. “Nope. If he is, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know anything about Jared Kleinman or where he puts his dick.”

 

“I was going to say I have no idea,” Evan replies with a roll of his eyes. “It’s not really something I want to know, either.”

 

Once they’ve finished their breakfast, they just kind of… stay in bed for a little while longer. It’s this warm safe bubble and Connor knows it can’t last forever, but he’s going to hold onto it as long as he can. They talk and they kiss and they just… are. It’s nice to just be with Evan. To just be.

 

Moments like these are few and far between.

 

Connor wishes they could have them more often.

 

He wishes he could give Evan something normal.

 

* * *

 

Evan doesn’t want to go into DYAD. He really doesn’t. But he knows he has to. He sees Connor off then drives to the DYAD building and heads straight to see Kylie, who’s in town for the week and surprised to see him.

 

“Reed said you were sick,” she says, not unkindly. “Are you sure you should be back?”

 

“I’ve got news,” he says, then launches into the tale of his family friend having encountered a sick clone in Buenos Aires. Kylie’s expression grows increasingly more concerned, and as Evan explains that they’re on their way, she nods and starts looking something up on her computer.

 

“Bateman,” she says to herself, going through files. “Yorick Lysander Bateman, 894J23, born February 14, 2000.” She smiles kind of sadly. “That’s this weekend.”

 

It suddenly hits Evan that Connor’s birthday is on Monday, and his heart sinks a little at the realization that he probably can’t spend the day with him.

 

“Did I do the right thing by telling them to come here?” Evan asks hesitantly. “It seemed like the right call, but… what am I going to tell Jared? He’s going to want to know why Yorick looks so much like Connor, and how I knew Yorick was sick, and…” He sighs. “I feel like I broke like a thousand security rules here.”

 

“You probably did,” Kylie says, her voice equally as hesitant. “But… I think you did the right thing.” She looks around the room, then pulls something out of her pocket and places it on the desk. It’s small and it’s round and…

 

Oh.

 

She pushes a button and then looks at Evan, expression urgent. “I’ve been trying to find the right time,” she says quietly. “I was approached by the ESM as well. By Charles in the UK. I’ve been funneling as much information as I can through, and getting as much as I can from other centers about the illness. The ESM is right: DYAD aren’t doing everything they can to cure the clone illness. But we are.”

 

“I told them they should talk to you,” Evan says, equally as quiet. “I’m glad they did.”

 

“What we’re doing is incredibly dangerous,” Kylie says frankly. “DYAD are powerful. They’re powerful, they’re ruthless, they’re brilliant, but the ESM has the right idea. We need to be focusing on ethical science. Curing the clones, giving them a chance to live normal lives. Once we have the cure… we can move onto the next step.”

 

“Which is?” Evan asks, already sure he knows the answer.

 

“Expose the corruption,” Kylie says frankly. “Bring it all out into the light. Stop the experiments, stop the horrors…” She takes a deep breath. “I did some digging of my own, and… the things I’ve seen. Oh my god.” She looks at the device on her desk. “We can’t talk about this here again but I’ll figure out a way for us to talk in private more often. I promise.”

 

Evan really hopes it’s not another fucking phone.

 

He makes plans with Kylie to bring Yorick and Jared straight to the lab and then goes to pick them up from the airport. It’s weird. It’s really fucking weird. He hasn’t seen Jared since high school, and back in high school things were…

 

Well, they were weird.

 

Jared helped him fake emails between Connor and Evan to give to the Murphys - just a few, but they were enough proof. The whole student body had been abuzz about Connor’s suicide and Alana had tried to convince Evan to set up an organization in Connor’s memory. She wanted to call it The Connor Project.

 

It hadn’t worked out well. Alana had tried to make a Facebook page, but it kept getting deleted. She tried for a whole week, and every time the page would automatically delete itself. The same went for Twitter, YouTube, and even Tumblr - any time she tried to set up anything as The Connor Project, it just… didn’t work.

 

Evan now knows that was Torpedo’s work, which is kind of funny in hindsight because Alana was just. So. Frustrated.

 

Evan hadn’t exactly wanted to set up an organization, or get more involved in the lies he’d already spun himself. He’d had this weird dream, or possibly hallucination, where Connor had shown up in his room in the middle of the night and very bluntly told him they weren’t friends and not to fuck with his family, and…

 

A thought occurs to Evan.

 

Maybe he should ask Connor about that weird dream or hallucination, on the off-chance that he’d just… climbed into his window in the middle of the night and pretended he was a ghost.

 

He probably won’t ask. It’d just make him sound like a crazy person.

 

At any rate, the whole thing had died down and people forgot about it, but they were a little nicer to Evan in the hallways. He was a little less invisible. And then all of a sudden, Zoe Murphy was constantly at his house while her mother was at a grief retreat, and they were becoming genuine friends, and Jared was…

 

Well, Jared was a dick about it. He’d threatened to expose the whole thing, tell the Murphys that Evan never knew Connor, tell Zoe that the only reason Evan had gone along with it was because of Evan’s weird crush on her.

 

Evan had asked him if he really wanted to be responsible for hurting a grieving family.

 

Jared had backed down. And ignored him the rest of senior year.

 

Their paths had crossed on occasion since then, but they hadn’t really seen each other properly in about two and a half years. Hopefully, the whole thing is water under the bridge now, but with Jared, you never really know.

 

Soon he’s at the airport, and an exhausted-looking Jared shows up, following by an even more exhausted looking clone. Evan takes him in - a lot more tan than Connor (though that’s not hard), a decent amount more muscular and with much curlier hair. Still long like Connor’s, though. No beard.

 

(Connor’s been mentioning he might say goodbye to the beard soon, and Evan’s not sure how he feels about it. He’ll be handsome as hell either way, and given that most of the other clones in the vicinity are beardless, Evan can kind of see why Connor might decide that shaving off his beard would make it easier for cloneswaps. Still, Evan kind of likes it.)

 

“Hey Evan,” says Jared in that fake cheery tone Evan remembers so well from high school. “How’s it going? How’s life? Want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?”

 

Evan ignores Jared and turns to Yorick. “Nice to meet you,” he says to the clone politely, extending a hand, which the clone takes in a slightly lackluster handshake.

 

“Nice to meet you, too,” says Yorick, clearly a little freaked out.

 

“I’m going to take you straight to DYAD,” Evan says with more confidence than he feels, “to meet with one of my colleagues. It shouldn’t take long, just an initial assessment and we’ll be able to tell you a bit more about what’s going on.”

 

“We haven’t seen each other in two and a half years and this is how you welcome me,” Jared grumbles. “What happened to our friendship, Evan?”

 

“You mean our family friendship?” Evan replies, as coolly as he can.

 

Jared’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Whoa there, acorn. Retract the claws.”

 

“Acorns don’t have claws,” says Yorick helpfully.

 

Evan sighs. “Let’s just go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com and be sure to read the other fics in the One of a Kind series because I have SUCH GREAT AUTHORS coming to the party here!


	53. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are blessed donuts.

“And you’re sure you’re safe with the murder clone?” Torpedo says for what’s probably the hundredth time. 

 

Connor sighs loudly and slumps back on the couch. “I’m sure,” he says. 

 

He’s not sure, but he doesn’t have the energy to explain to his clone that things are just… so much more complicated than ‘safe’. 

 

After seeing Seamus dart in and out of the bathroom and head back into the guest room where Gus is, armed with a first aid kit, Connor’s really fucking worried. But he still doesn’t feel like Gus is going to hurt him. 

 

He also doesn’t think that Gus is going to hurt Reed. 

 

But he’s pretty sure Gus is going to hurt himself, and that’s… 

 

It actually makes him feel physically sick. 

 

Reed’s taken off the weird muppet coat and is wearing denim overalls and a crop top and Connor has no idea how they’re not freezing. It’s warm in the apartment, but the winter has been bitterly cold. 

 

He thinks about the floor of the warehouse and Jerome’s dead body and…

 

“I just need a minute,” he says abruptly, and stands up to go to Ben’s room for awhile. Reed watches him go with an expression of concern, but seems to realize he needs his space. 

 

He sits down on the edge of Ben’s bed and tries to get his breathing under control. Tries to get his emotions under control. He takes a couple of deep breaths and thinks about something his therapist said about grounding himself. It’s weird as fuck, but he gives it a go. He thinks about the feeling of the blanket on the bed and runs his fingers over it, trying to take in the reality of it. He focuses on his feet on the ground and keeping his breathing slow and steady. 

 

Once he feels a little better, he notices his phone buzz and goes to check it. 

 

It’s a text from Pippa. 

 

She wants to know if he heard about what happened to Jerome. 

 

Apparently, it’s all over the school that he was found dead in an abandoned warehouse after an anonymous tip called it in and that it looks like a drug deal gone bad. 

 

Connor is overcome by a feeling of white-hot anger. 

 

It’s bullshit.

 

It’s fucking bullshit. 

 

He runs his hand over the blanket again and takes another deep breath. 

 

He’s got to get it together. 

 

Because… well fuck, it makes sense. It makes sense that’s the story they’ve gone with. Nothing to do with a murderous Ukrainian religious nut, a cloning conspiracy or the fact that it is absolutely, 100% Connor’s fault that he’s dead. 

 

Shit. 

 

Connor chokes out a sob without really realizing, then shuts his eyes and tries to pull himself together. 

 

The door opens and it’s Reed, standing hesitantly in the doorway. “Torpedo had to go,” they say gently. They sit down next to Connor and place their hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Sorry,” Connor mumbles. “Just… getting it together.”

 

“Having it together is bullshit,” says Reed with a small laugh. “If you bottle it up, you’re going to explode.”

 

“Pretty sure I’m not going to literally explode,” Connor jokes weakly. 

 

“Wrong,” Reed replies cheerfully. “It’ll be a literal explosion. You can trust me, I’m like, super into science. It’ll be like…” they imitate an explosion noise and Connor smiles despite himself. “Little bits of Connor brain, all over the room. Clashes horribly with the decor.”

 

That just makes Connor think about Jerome with a bullet through his eyes. He takes in a deep shaky breath, then horribly, painfully, excruciatingly embarrassingly, bursts into tears. 

 

He’s dimly aware of Reed wrapping their arms around him and saying something comforting in a calming voice. 

 

It’s probably only a few minutes of crying but it feels like hours. When he’s done, he wipes his eyes and smiles weakly at his clone. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

 

Seamus comes into the room a little warily, his face tight with tension and horribly, horribly sad. “I was hoping I could borrow a shirt for August,” he says gently. “Something soft.”

 

Reed immediately stands up and goes through Ben’s closet. Connor looks at Seamus, who won’t quite meet his eyes. “He hurt himself, didn’t he?”

 

“He’s going to be okay,” Seamus says, and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. He forces a smile. “I was thinking I’d order some pizzas. Do you guys want in?”

 

“Pizza sounds good,” Connor agrees, even though he doesn’t really feel like eating. Reed nods along and explains they don’t eat dairy or meat, and as they and Seamus discuss what they’re going to order, Connor slips out of the room quietly. 

 

For some reason, it’s vital that he sees Gus right now. 

 

Gus is sitting in the corner of the room with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Connor approaches gently and sits down next to him, careful not to touch him.

 

“I’m sorry you’re hurt,” Connor says, a little weakly. 

 

“It is necessary,” Gus says stubbornly, refusing to look at him. 

 

“It’s not,” Connor replies softly. “It’s not, and I’m sorry that people told you that it is. It’s not… it’s not fair. You deserve not to be in pain.”

 

“Pain is a message from God,” Gus says, his tone a little uncertain. 

 

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t think it is, Gus.”

 

He chances a look at his twin to see a little smile on his face. “I like to be Gus,” he says. “I would like to be Gus always.”

 

“Alright,” Connor agrees. “I’ll tell Seamus and Reed that you’re Gus now.”

 

Gus looks troubled at the mention of Reed. “The other… clone,” he says, trying out the unfamiliar word in his mouth like it doesn’t quite fit. “He is like us?”

 

“They’re a little different,” Connor admits. “But they’re a good person. And they’re not going to hurt you.”

 

“They,” says Gus, sounding a little confused. 

 

Connor thinks that Reed will probably understand if Gus takes a while to get his head around their pronouns. “They’re a really good cook,” he says instead. 

 

Gus’s eyes widen. “Food is good.” 

 

Connor laughs. “Yeah, food is good.”

 

Seamus comes in then and gives Gus a shirt. Gus reluctantly moves the blanket and Connor has to look away because the deep, bloody cuts he can see through the bandages on his twin’s back are just… fucking heartbreaking. Gus looks ashamed, so Connor makes sure to smile at him in a way that he hopes is comforting, and is rewarded by a crooked grin in response. 

 

When the pizzas arrive, Gus isn’t quite ready to move yet, so Seamus and Gus eat pizza in the guest room on the floor and Reed and Connor stay out in the living room, watching something on Netflix and idly chatting. 

 

Seamus comes out a bit later to inform them that Gus has gone to bed and that he’s got some things to do tonight and tomorrow, and do they think the three of them will be okay alone in the apartment. He looks so uncertain and Connor rushes to assure him that they’ll be fine, they’ll manage. Seamus assures them he’ll check in and will be back, and tells them he’s also let Gus know, and then disappears into the night. 

 

Connor sets Reed up in the master bedroom. Reed still seems a little uncertain and brings a chair from the living room to put under the door so it can’t be opened from the outside, which Connor understands from a ‘there is someone in this house who has literally murdered people’ perspective, but breaks his heart when he thinks about Gus and the wounds on his back and what he must have been through. 

 

It takes Connor a long time to go to sleep that night. 

 

The next day, Reed’s up and cooking before Connor wakes up, and when he comes into the living room he can smell all sorts of delicious things. Reed smiles as they see him and gestures to the bench. “Okay,” they say enthusiastically. “So I’ve made some bread, and I’ve put some soup for later, and there are pancakes on their way. And I just remembered that Momma K sent a box of brownies with me, so they’re on the table. I figured we could just… relax, watch some TV.” Their smile wilts a little. “You said that Gus likes food, so I figured…”

 

Connor’s about to say that they’ve probably got the right idea when he sees Gus’s head peeking out from the door of the guest room. “Nice smells,” he says, clearly interested. “There is food to spare?”

 

“There is so much food,” Connor says, gesturing for him to come out. “Gus, this is Reed.”

 

Reed waves a little awkwardly. “I’m making pancakes,” they say. “I’ve just finished the first two, would you like them?”

 

Gus’s eyes light up. “Pancakes are very tasty,” he says, his tone enthusiastic, and Connor laughs and gets his twin a plate. 

 

Soon the three of them are sitting at the kitchen table, eating piles of pancakes. Well, Gus is eating piles and piles and piles of pancakes, and Connor’s forcing down what he can, and Reed is looking on in interest as Gus covers his pancakes in copious amounts of syrup, jam and canned whipped cream. He then catches a glimpse of the box of brownies. 

 

“They’re vegan,” Reed says. 

 

Gus frowns. “I do not know this word.”

 

“It means there’s no dairy in them,” Reed continues. “No, uh, no cow products?”

 

“No cows in brownies,” says Gus, confused. 

 

“Help yourself,” Reed says with a smile, and Gus wolfs down at least four brownies in the space of about a minute. 

 

Something occurs to Connor. “Hey Reed, did you say Momma K made the brownies? As in, the mom you did shrooms with on New Year’s Eve?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“They’re not… please don’t tell me they’re special brownies.”

 

Realization dawns on Reed’s face. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that.”

 

Gus goes for another helping of pancakes, a sunny smile on his face. He looks very, very pleased with himself, and Connor just really hopes that things aren’t about to go horribly wrong. 

 

After a couple of minutes, Gus starts to giggle uncontrollably. Connor looks at him for a minute, then takes the box of brownies and unceremoniously eats a couple, then passes the box to Reed, who does the same. 

 

They may as well all be stoned, Connor figures. 

 

The three of them pile on the couch and Reed loudly insists they all watch Adventure Time, which Connor has never seen and Gus has never even heard of. Before they start watching, Gus decides he wants to get a blanket from the guest room, because it is soft and he likes soft things. 

 

Gus is definitely stoned, but it seems to have made him less jumpy, less on edge, and Connor lets himself relax a little. Gus, it seems, is chatty when he’s stoned.

 

“I do not understand what happens but I like dog with wavy arms,” he says enthusiastically. “Dogs are very good. I like the soft dogs and the small dogs and also the big dogs. When I see dog, I am happy, and God makes dogs to make man happy, so God must want us to be happy with dogs.”

 

“Dogs are good,” Reed agrees. “Dogs are just… so good.”

 

“I would like to have dog,” Gus says, warming to his topic. “Big dog that is soft like cloud. When things are soft, they are very good. Soft like blanket and socks and also, right now, my tongue.” He sticks out his tongue and kind of… touches it with his finger repeatedly, giggling. “Tongue is very soft. Soft in my mouth. I would like brownie.”

 

“Probably a bad idea to have another one, dude,” Connor says, “but I think there are some donuts leftover from yesterday.”

 

“Donuts are also soft and good,” says Gus. Then his eyes widen. “But donuts are for you, Connor, I save them for your broken spirit.”

 

Connor has absolutely no idea how to respond to that. Reed kind of looks at Gus, then at Connor, a little bewildered. “What do you mean?” Reed asks, their tone a little wary. 

 

Gus’s face falls a little. “It is sad that Handsome Man is dead,” he says solemnly. “He is special to Connor, and Connor has broken spirit. I pray to fix spirit.” His eyes widen again. “God has donuts for the righteous and God will fix broken spirit if you eat donuts.” He runs to the kitchen, grabs the box and shoves them at Connor. “Eat. Eat blessed donuts. God will heal you.”

 

Connor opens the box and takes out a donut then eats it as Gus looks on encouragingly. Connor forces a smile and then hands the box over to Gus, who hands it right back. 

 

“Blessed donuts are for you,” Gus insists. 

 

Connor takes another one, then hands the box back to donuts. “I want you to have some,” he insists. “You could use a blessed donut as well.”

 

Gus frowns. “I am not worthy of blessed donut.”

 

“You are totally worthy of a blessed donut,” Connor finds himself insisting. It’s suddenly very, very important that his twin eat a donut. He holds the box out in front of him and kind of shakes it, until Gus finally relents and takes a donut. 

 

As Gus eats the donut, he instantly relaxes, and smiles, his mouth wide open as he’s chewing which is kind of gross but Connor’s just happy he’s smiling. “It is very good donut,” he says around a mouthful of fried dough and sugar. “We are all blessed.”

 

Gus turns to Reed, and hesitantly offers the box. “Blessed donut for you?” he says, voice a little unsure. “When God gives blessing, the faithful must share.”

 

“I don’t know if they’re vegan,” Connor says to Reed conversationally. 

 

Reed looks a little shocked, and there’s something hard to decipher on their face, but soon they have a small smile and take a donut from Gus, then eats it slowly. Gus nods in approval, then turns back to the screen. 

 

“Purple creature floats and I do not know what it says,” Gus says. “But is funny. Good purple creature. Not dog.”

 

“No, that’s not a dog,” Connor agrees. “I… I don’t think I’m following the plot of this.”

 

“Plot?”

 

“The story.”

 

Gus looks confused. “There is story?”

 

“Kind of.”

 

“I like dogs.”

 

“I know you do, Gus.”

 

“I like soft dogs.”

 

“I like soft dogs, too.”

 

Gus looks at Reed. “Your hairs look very soft.”

 

“Yeah dude,” Reed says with a nod. “They are. Wanna touch them?”

 

Gus grins. “Yes. Soft hairs like pink dog.” He kind of climbs over Connor and just… pats Reed’s head and it’s so completely hysterical that Connor just… cracks up laughing, which sets off Gus, which sets off Reed, and soon they’re all just a pile on the sofa laughing, and…

 

Connor thinks, idly, that this is nice. 

 

“My hairs are rough,” Gus says, frowning a little. “I like that they are long, but I do not like rough.”

 

Reed immediately looks interested. “Do you want me to do something with it? I could, like, condition it or something. Maybe cut off some of the split ends, give it a trim.”

 

Gus looks terrified for a moment. “Do you cut with knives?” he asks warily. 

 

“I have scissors,” Reed says, clearly sensing that Gus is a little wary. “They’re safe, and I promise I won’t cut anything but your hair.”

 

“Cutting hairs can make hairs soft?” Gus asks. 

 

“It’ll help,” Reed assures him. 

 

All of a sudden, Gus is sitting at the kitchen table with a towel around his neck, a little apprehensive. Connor hands him another donut. “This will help,” he tells him solemnly. “If you’re eating blessed donuts, nothing can happen to you, right?”

 

“I’ll be super careful,” Reed promises, then sets to work. Gus is a little on edge the whole time, but Connor makes sure to be sitting right next to him to make sure he’s okay. At one point, Gus kind of grabs Connor’s hand and Connor gives it a reassuring squeeze, which makes Gus smile. 

 

Reed kind of talks through what they’re doing the whole time, and Gus starts to relax a little bit. After just over half an hour, Reed announces that they’re done, and Connor leads Gus to a mirror. 

 

There’s still a bit of length of Gus’s hair, but it’s nowhere near as long and as feral as it was. Reed’s used something in it and it’s definitely softer. Gus kind of pats it experimentally and smiles. 

 

“Soft,” he announces. “I like this. But short. I think I would like it to be longer but also soft. I have cold ears.”

 

“We’ll get you a hat,” Connor promises. “But your hair will grow and I’m sure Reed will help you figure out how to keep it soft.”

 

“Totally,” says Reed enthusiastically. “You just have to make sure you’re using conditioner.”

 

Gus frowns. “What is this?”

 

Reed launches into an explanation of hair products, which Gus listens to for about five minutes before getting distracted by his soft head, then going back into the living room for more blessed donuts. 

 

Seamus arrives mid-afternoon to find the three of them very loudly singing along to the Adventure Time theme song as an episode begins and looks a little shocked. Then he catches sight of Gus giggling and the box of brownies and it clicks. He sighs. 

 

“I leave you alone for less than 24 hours and you’re stoned,” he says with a shake of his head.

 

“In our defense,” Connor begins, then cracks up laughing and doesn't finish the sentence.

 

Seamus just kind of rolls his eyes and sits down on the couch next to Gus. Gus smiles at him. “Blessed donut?”

 

“Sure,” says Seamus, taking one.”

 

“I like soft dogs,” Gus announces. 

 

“Okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	54. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan deals with the insanely inconvenient Jared Kleinman.

“So tell me what’s been going on. What’s happening? How’s life in the world of Evan Hansen? Who’s Ben Childs, where did you meet him, what does he do, is he from a good family, how many cows is he willing to pay for your eventual hand in marriage?”

 

Evan grits his teeth and tries very hard not to start yelling at Jared, who is riding shotgun and just won’t stop fucking talking. They’re stuck in traffic on their way to DYAD and every single molecule of Evan’s body is vibrating with tension and fear and annoyance, because of all the people from his life to run into a clone in the middle of South America, it just had to be Jared Kleinman. 

 

He supposes it could be worse. It could have been Alana Beck. 

 

He doesn’t even want to think about what Alana’s reaction would be. 

 

“I want to hear more about this fancy science job, too,” Jared continues, as if completely unaware that Evan really doesn’t want to be having this conversation. “What’s going on? Did you dig up the body of Connor Murphy and recreate him in the lab then send copies out of him into the world-”

 

“Dude, no offense, but could you shut the hell up?” interrupts Yorick from the backseat, his tone pained. “My head is killing me. That flight was rough.”

 

“We’ll be there soon,” Evan promises, inwardly sighing with relief as they finally turn the corner onto the main road where the DYAD building is located. “We should be able to get you some stronger painkillers as well.”

 

He parks, they all climb out of the car and Evan escorts them into the building. The receptionist makes quick work of getting them visitors passes, and Evan leads them down the winding corridors toward Kylie’s office. 

 

“This place is like a maze,” Jared says. “Do you have to bring a compass to work to find anything?”

 

“No, Jared,” says Evan tiredly, taking a sharp left down another corridor and hearing the two behind him follow along. 

 

“I thought you said you guys were friends,” Yorick says to Jared, quiet enough that it’s obvious he wasn’t intending Evan to hear it but loud enough that he did. 

 

“Family friends,” Evan says, his tone clipped. 

 

“We basically grew up together,” Jared clarifies. “Our moms are friends, we go way back.”

 

“Jared’s mom would only pay his car insurance if he talked to me,” Evan replies, following another corridor to the right. “As he took great delight in reminding me all through high school.”

 

“Dick move, dude,” Yorick says from behind him.

 

“Et tu, Yorick?”

 

“Don’t mix your Shakespeare, my dads would have a fit.”

 

They finally arrive at Kylie’s office, and Evan feels himself relax as he walks through the familiar door. Then tense again as he recognizes the other person in the room. 

 

It’s Veronica Harding. 

 

“Mr. Hansen,” she says, a warm smile on her face. “Lovely to see you again. I understand you’ve brought guests.” She goes straight to Yorick and shakes his hand. “Veronica Harding. Delighted to meet you.”

 

“Likewise,” says Yorick, looking a little uncomfortable. “I, uh, Evan said something about an illness and I’ve been having these headaches and-”

 

“Let’s get you settled,” says Ms. Harding, smile never fading. “Dr. McAllistair, there’s a testing room just down the hallway, if you and Mr. Bateman want to get started, I’ll touch base with Mr. Hansen and Mr… Kleinman, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Jared replies, almost nervously. Evan hasn’t got a lot of experience with Jared being legitimately nervous, so it’s a little unsettling but also kind of comforting in its own way. 

 

Kylie shoots Evan a look, and there’s a tone of warning in her eyes as she and Yorick head down the corridor. Ms. Harding gestures to the sofa in Kylie’s office and both Jared and Evan take a seat. 

 

“You did the right thing bringing Mr. Bateman here,” she says, her tone swift and decisive. “The tests will confirm for sure, but it’s highly likely he is indeed suffering from a genetic illness we’re working on treating here at the Institute.”

 

“You can tell that just by looking at him?” asks Jared incredulously. 

 

“DYAD training is highly specialized,” she shoots back, smooth as anything. “Mr. Hansen here knows what to look out for.”

 

“Has it got anything to do with the fact that he looks exactly like Connor Murphy?”

 

Ms. Harding frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Kleinman.”

 

“There’s a physical resemblance to someone we knew in high school,” Evan says, trying to keep his voice even. “When Jared mentioned he’d met someone who looked like Connor, I was curious, so we talked via Skype so I could see for myself.” He swallows a bit nervously. “And thanks to my DYAD training, I could see the signs of the illness.”

 

Ms. Harding smiles. “It’s good to see we have such observant people on staff,” she says, her tone approving. Evan can’t physically relax at this, but he’s getting the vibe that she’s pleased with his response. 

 

The problem with this whole scenario is, of course, that it’s Jared fucking Kleinman. 

 

Who has known him since he was a kid and who, despite the two and a half years they’ve spent apart, is wearing that familiar expression that basically screams ‘Evan, you’re full of shit right now’. 

 

“A physical resemblance?” says Jared, his tone even more disbelieving. “It wasn’t just a resemblance - Sandy looks just like Connor, I swear to God.”

 

“Sandy?” asks Ms. Harding with a frown. 

 

“Yorick,” Jared says impatiently. “Mr. Bateman. Whatever. His middle name is Lysander, his mom calls him Sandy, I wasn’t going to just run around calling him Yorick like I should be carrying a skull.”

 

“I thought you flunked out of college,” Evan mutters under his breath. 

 

“I looked it up,” Jared shoots right back. 

 

“There are certain physical markers we look for that demonstrate a predisposition to this particular genetic illness,” says Ms. Harding. “It’s entirely possible that Mr. Murphy could be suffering from the same illness. Are either of you still in touch with him? It may be wise to check.”

 

Evan knows that Ms. Harding knows Connor’s dead. 

 

Well, officially dead. 

 

He hopes she’s still sure that he’s dead. 

 

He really hopes she doesn’t know that Connor was in his bed this morning. 

 

“That would be a bit difficult,” says Evan delicately. “Connor passed away in high school.”

 

“He killed himself,” Jared says, his tone a lot less delicate. 

 

“My condolences,” says Ms. Harding. She focuses her gaze on Jared. “Mr. Kleinman, I want to thank you on behalf of the DYAD Institute for taking the time to escort Mr. Bateman here. I understand you were in the middle of a vacation and took some time out to bring him here. We will, of course, refund your flights. I’ve taken the liberty of booking you a flight tomorrow afternoon back to Buenos Aires, and we’ve put you up in a 5-star hotel for the night. Once we’ve concluded our business, we’ll provide transport to the hotel.” She smiles warmly and turns to Evan. “I understand you and Mr. Kleinman haven’t seen each other in some time. We have an account at the hotel he’ll be staying in, and you’re more than welcome to charge dinner and drinks to it so you can catch up.”

 

Jared’s eyes are as wide as saucepans at this, and Evan tries to smile. “That’s very generous, Ms. Harding. Are you sure you won’t need me tonight to help with testing?”

 

“Dr. McAllistair is more than capable,” she assures him. “I’m also aware you’ve been unwell, so wouldn’t want to put you under any undue pressure.” She smiles. “We do try to take good care of our employees, especially ones of your caliber.” 

 

She stands up, and Evan and Jared follow suit. “Let me escort you to the front desk,” says Ms. Harding.

 

“What about Sandy?” Jared asks. “Is he coming too?”

 

“He’ll be staying here overnight for observation,” says Ms. Harding, her tone easy. 

 

Jared looks uncertain. “Can I say goodbye?”

 

“Of course,” says Ms. Harding, smiling brightly. “Mr. Hansen, if you’d like to escort Mr. Kleinman to Testing Room C so he can say his goodbyes. Dr. McAllistair will be able to brief you more on the technical side of things as well.” She shakes both their hands, all cool and pleasant and slightly terrifying. She holds onto Evan’s hand just a little bit longer. “Well done, Mr. Hansen. We’re very pleased with your initiative in this case.”

 

She leaves the room, and Evan almost lets himself relax, but not quite because Jared’s just staring at him like he’s grown an extra head. “What the actual fuck, Evan?”

 

“I thought she explained it all pretty well,” Evan says, his voice tired. “I’m sorry your friend is sick.”

 

“A physical resemblance?” Jared says in a mocking tone. “That’s bullshit. Sandy looks  _ exactly like Connor, _ Evan. Exactly like him. Or have you just tried to block the image of your fake dead best friend from your memory?”

 

“Trust me, I couldn’t forget Connor if I tried,” Evan says, and it’s the truest thing he’s said since he arrived. “They look similar, I’ll give you that. But that’s not important. What’s important is that he’s sick, he’s getting the help he needs and you’re getting on a plane back to Argentina tomorrow. Back on vacation. You were the one who was all pissy about wasting money and stopping it - you’ll be back drinking cocktails on a beach in less than a day.”

 

Jared just kind of stares at him. “You drag me out here, you say something about Vermont, now you’re putting me on a plane back to Argentina. What the hell.”

 

“Well, what use are you going to be if you stay?” Evan points out irritably. “You’re not a scientist. You fix computers and flunked out of college. What use are you in treating a genetic illness?”

 

“Last I heard you were studying plants, Evan,” Jared shoots back. “What use are  _ you _ in treating a genetic illness? What, are you gonna water the guy? Put him in some soil? Trim his branches?”

 

“Last you heard was a long time ago,” Evan replies, trying and failing to keep his voice level. “This is my job. I’m doing a whole semester here on independent study, working on this genetic illness, and… it’s my job, okay, and I actually give a crap about curing this illness, and I don’t want your friend to die and I don’t want… anyone else affected to die, okay, so just go back to wandering South America and don’t be a dick just because you weren’t smart enough to hack it at college.”

 

Jared almost recoils at Evan’s words, and Evan almost feels bad. Almost. “You are taking this way too fucking personally,” he says, aiming for a light tone but failing miserably. “Let me guess, everyone who’s sick looks like Connor and you’re out of your depth here, trying to make up for your high school mistakes.”

 

“Or maybe I’m just a decent human being who wants to do what they can to help people,” Evan says. He’s so tired. He’s so fucking tired. He wishes it were this morning again, and he was in bed with Connor, in that safe cocoon of fake normalcy, and… 

 

He wishes this illness didn’t exist at all. 

 

“Fine,” Jared snaps. “Are we saying goodbye to Sandy?”

 

“Yes,” Evan says, and leads him out of the room down the hallway to the testing room. Yorick’s sitting in a chair and Kylie’s just finishing putting an IV in his arm. He smiles at them as they enter. 

 

“Hey guys,” he says cheerfully. “Kylie’s hooking me up with some morphine, it’s a great time.” 

 

Evan looks at Kylie. “Straight to morphine?” he asks gently. 

 

“He nearly fainted on me from pain,” she replies, equally quiet. She smiles at Jared. “You and Yorick want to say your goodbyes? I hear you’re back to Argentina tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah,” says Jared, a little hesitantly. “Gotta get back to my vacation, my man. But keep in touch once these guys get your health sorted out. I’ll have to come visit you in Ontario some time. We’ll have some shitty Canadian beer.”

 

“You’re on,” says Yorick. He smiles weakly. He’s clearly starting to get a little loopy on the morphine. 

 

Kylie gestures for Evan to follow her into the next room and shuts the door. Then she looks at Evan. “Ms. Harding told me something interesting about Yorick,” she says quietly. “His mother in Switzerland? She’s DYAD. She’s been calling him every day, checking in because she’s his monitor. His dads are in Canada and he’s not really in touch with them. In other words - Yorick’s pretty much off the grid when it comes to people in his life who’d miss him.” She grimaces. “Which makes him an excellent test subject.”

 

Evan’s heart drops into his stomach. “Test subject?” he replies weakly. 

 

“Yes,” says Kylie, her tone deceptively even. “There’s only a certain amount we can do with subjects who are… fully integrated into society. But a clone who’s been traveling the world, whose only regular contact is actually DYAD? Ms. Harding wants us to keep him here under constant observation. There’s a lot we can learn from someone we’ve caught so early in the illness.” 

 

Evan takes this in. 

 

He’s fucked up. 

 

He’s fucked up by bringing Yorick here. 

 

He’s sentenced him to a fate worse than death. 

 

“I…”

 

“It’s unfortunate,” says Kylie, interrupting him with wide eyes, “but it could be very valuable to our research. I’m sure you understand.”

 

Evan’s quiet for a long moment, then nods. 

 

His mind is whirring with escape plans. What can he do? Can he smuggle Yorick out under the guise of getting his stuff from Evan’s car and then drive him to the airport and send him somewhere?

 

Probably not. Yorick’s pretty drugged up on morphine and…

 

Fuck. 

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

 

Fuck. 

 

He’s going to have to tell the others that Yorick’s in DYAD’s hands now. 

 

He’s going to have to tell Connor. Connor, who’s already so suspicious of DYAD, who’s already so scared for him, Connor who…

 

Connor, who could get sick any day now. 

 

Connor, who could be saved if they use the data they collect on experimenting on Yorick. 

 

Evan rubs the bridge of his nose anxiously. “I understand,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “It’s unfortunate.”

 

Kylie wraps him in a sudden hug, then whispers in his ear, “I know this is awful but we have to pick our battles.”

 

Evan returns the hug and nods in agreement. 

 

Jared’s subdued as they leave DYAD, after leaving Yorick’s things at the front desk for him to collect, and Evan assures the receptionist there’s no need to organize a cab, he’ll drive Jared to the hotel. Once they get Jared checked in, Evan tells him he’ll meet him at the bar and heads down to order a whiskey. 

 

When Jared to come back to the bar, he orders a drink. They order dinner and they talk about stupid shit like where else Jared’s planning on traveling and how each other’s families are. It’s all very polite and weird. Until Jared gets a few more drinks in him. 

 

“Oh man,” he says. “I still have Zoe Murphy on my Instagram, I totally should have taken a selfie with Sandy and sent it to her, it would have totally freaked her out.”

 

“That is the most fucking insensitive thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Evan replies, “and I’ve known you for nearly 20 years.”

 

“It was a joke. Lighten up.” Jared orders another cocktail. It’s pink and ridiculous. “You’re still in touch with Zoe, aren’t you? Even though you’re gay now?”

 

“Bisexual,” he corrects him. “And so is Zoe, which you would know if you’d paid any attention to her Instagram in the last few months because it’s full of photos of her and her girlfriend Hannah.”

 

“Hot,” Jared replies, taking a sip of his cocktail. “Bet the Murphy parents love that. I barely knew them, but I took them for that whole old school repressed Catholic bullshit.”

 

“I saw them at Christmas, and it was a bit tense,” Evan admits. 

 

“You still visit the Murphys?” Jared asks with a disbelieving laugh. “Wow, you just can’t stop with this whole bullshit lie, can’t you?”

 

“I’m friends with Zoe,” Evan says, before taking a long sip of his whiskey. “I don’t exactly see her parents that often but… they like to stay in touch.”

 

“Three years,” Jared says with a shake of his head. “You kept it up for three years. At least you’re consistent.”

 

“Yeah well, at least I don’t just quit when things get hard,” Evan replies. 

 

Jared kind of glares at him for a moment, then drinks the rest of his cocktail in a swift motion. “You know what?” he says finally. “I think I’m going to keep drinking on your fancy science institute’s tab since I’m a _loser college dropout_ , but you and your fancy job can go home and get some sleep so you can save the fucking world tomorrow morning. How about that?”

 

“That sounds fine to me,” Evan says honestly. “I’ll see you next time. Have fun in Argentina.”

 

“Have fun pruning or whatever,” Jared shoots back, then signals for another drink. Evan heads into the main part of the hotel and decides to double-check to make sure Jared gets a wake-up call tomorrow, so he actually gets on a plane and goes back to his holiday.

 

Evan really, really needs Jared not to be here.

 

Then he calls a cab home and goes to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	55. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a decision to be made.

When the evening rolls around, Reed’s serving everyone big bowls of soup and fresh bread and the three of them are slightly less stoned, which Seamus is admittedly grateful for. There are things that need to be discussed and plans that need to be made, and he’d rather everyone was fully mentally present. 

 

While Reed sorts out dinner, Connor vacuums up the hair on the floor for Gus’s impromptu haircut, which Seamus quite likes. It makes him look younger. Cared for. Gus is still touching it every few moments, like he’s not quite sure it’s really his, and Connor quietly explains to Seamus that he wanted it to be soft. 

 

They all sit around the table and Gus enthusiastically eats nearly half the loaf of bread with his soup. He still eats like he’s afraid he’s not going to get food ever again, and Seamus vows that this kid is going to get three square meals a day and anything else he wants to eat for the rest of his damn life after what he’s been through. 

 

“Did you get all the stuff you needed to sort out done?” Connor asks Seamus, dunking his bread into his soup. While Gus is eating everything in sight, Connor seems to be struggling to eat at all, and Seamus isn’t really surprised but appreciates that he’s making an effort. 

 

“I did,” Seamus says. He looks at the three of them. “I’ve put in my two weeks notice for my job.”

 

Connor puts down his spoon and looks at Seamus, frowning. “Why?” he asks. 

 

Seamus sighs, then looks at Connor, then looks at Gus. Gus has picked up his soup bowl and is drinking it, but stops as he catches Seamus’s eye, then puts it down. 

 

“I haven’t had a chance to be your dad,” he says firmly. “Both of you. I’ve got savings, I’ve got resources, and I want the two of you to have a chance at a normal life. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere out of the way, where we’re not likely to have to deal with DYAD or Proletheans or any of that nonsense.” He looks at them both meaningful. “I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but I’d like to… take care of you. I think the three of us… we could all use a bit of healing, a bit of peace. Don’t you?”

  
  


Gus is staring, tilting his head like he doesn’t quite understand. “Go away from here,” he says, clearly trying to understand. “To country, not city? Away from crowds of people, somewhere small, yes?” 

 

“Something like that,” Seamus confirms. He looks at Connor. “I know it would take a bit of doing to get you out of being Ben. We’d have to… I don’t know, create a whole new identity for you. Ben’s parents are barely in touch, it would take them a very long time to file a missing person’s report even if they did notice. I realize it sounds cruel…”

 

“I get it,” Connor says, his expression a little confused. “I’m just going to have to think about it. Is that okay?”

 

Seamus blinks in surprise. “Of course it’s okay,” he assures him. “You make your own decisions based on what you think is best for you, son. I just… I want you to know that you have options. From all accounts, you were dragged into this and you didn’t get a lot of choice in the matter. I want you to know that now, you have a choice.”

 

Connor nods, then looks at his soup. He takes a deep breath, then stands up. “I just need a moment,” he says quietly, then disappears into his room. 

 

Seamus catches Reed’s eye. They look a little stunned. Seamus kind of sighs. “I understand if you think this is a bit strange,” he says to Reed, “but I worry about him. And Gus. And all of you. You’re trying to find out more about where you’re from and why you exist, and that’s completely understandable, but… these people aren’t meant to be messed with. Not when you’re all just kids.”

 

“I don’t disagree,” Reed says, their tone open and honest. “But it’s a big decision and…” They sigh. “I wouldn’t blame Connor if he decided to take you up on it, I really wouldn’t. But you’d be going no contact, wouldn’t you? Completely off the grid?”

 

“Minimal contact,” Seamus agrees. “If you wanted us to check in, we’d check in, but…” He looks at Gus, who’s helping himself to another serving of soup from the kitchen. “For Gus’s sake, I don’t want to take any risks that more Proletheans are out there. He needs… he needs stability, and a chance to heal, and…”

 

Seamus can’t put it into words. 

 

Gus needs the space to break his destructive habits, the habits the Proletheans pushed him into. 

 

Gus needs love, and kindness, and acceptance, and most of all, a lot of time. 

 

And Seamus can’t risk them finding him and twisting him back into a weapon, because now that he’s seen how kind and damn gentle this kid - his kid - can be, he absolutely cannot allow him to return to the monster they made him. 

 

“It’s just…” Reed kind of sighs and fiddles with their lip piercing a bit. “We’ve all kind of been through a lot together - Connor and Torpedo and Lucas and I. I don’t know, it’s just…” They kind of laugh a little. “It’s selfish of me to not want him to disappear. I know that. I want what’s best for him, really, I just…” Reed shrugs, then goes to do the dishes, clearly not wanting to talk about it anymore. 

 

Gus puts his soup down on the table again and looks at Seamus, squinting a little. “If we go to small place,” he begins hesitantly, “what will we do?”

 

“What do you want to do?” Seamus asks. 

 

Gus’s eyes widen. “I am not sure,” he says, clearly surprised. “Before, I do not have choice. I do what I am told.” His expression softens a little. “I would like to make the pictures. In monastery, I make pictures with… coal? The coal pens? I like to make pictures.”

 

Seamus makes a mental note to get Gus some art supplies. 

 

And realizes he knows nothing about Gus’s general state of education. 

 

“Did you ever go to school?” he asks gently. “Can you read and write?”

 

“In Ukraine, I read and I write,” Gus informs him. “I start when I am small. I make memories in book, and I keep in pocket always. Pictures and words. You want to see, yes?”

 

“Sure,” Seamus agrees, and Gus hurries off to the guest room, then returns with a small book. He gives it to Seamus, who opens it and feels his breath catch. 

 

He doesn’t know what any of the words say. It’s all written in what must be Ukrainian, which uses letters he doesn’t know. But the pictures…

 

Seamus isn’t an art buff by any stretch of the imagination, but some of the sketches he’s looking at are simply beautiful. Some are delicate reproductions of everyday objects. Some are wilder, almost frightening - an angel with terrifying eyes, surrounded by flames. There are lots of pictures of dogs. 

 

“You’re very talented,” Seamus tells Gus, and Gus’s cheeks turn bright red. 

 

“It is small nonsense,” Gus replies, but he looks pleased at the praise. “It is a thing I like. Making pictures.”

 

“Drawing,” Seamus says. 

 

Gus tries out the word. “Drawing. Drawing.” He seems to find it hard to say, but he’s trying it out, over and over again, trying to get the sound in the middle right. He looks at Seamus solemnly. “If we go to country,” he says hesitantly, “I would like to learn to write and read English. And I would like to do drawing.” He pauses for a moment, looking like he’s about to say something else, but stops. 

 

“Is there something else on your mind, son?” 

 

Gus bites his lip, then points to something in his book. “It is much,” he says hesitantly. “But I would like dog. I always want dog, even when small.” Sorrow flashes across his face. “Some years ago, we live in Spain, under bridge. There is dog there. He is nice and friend, so I give him breads. Very soft. Very nice. But Tatiana says we must not keep dog. She shoots dog and cooks his meats.” Gus looks a little sick at the memory. “She will not give me dog meats, but I do not want. Will not eat friend.”

 

Not for the first time since he’s known Gus, Seamus feels the sting of tears at the back of his eyeballs. 

 

“I’m sure we can look into getting you a dog,” Seamus says, trying to keep himself from crying, because Gus probably doesn’t need that right now. “I like dogs. If we’re in the country, then sure we can get a dog.”

 

Gus’s eyes light up. “We will get dog that is abandoned, yes?” he says, clearly excited. “Dog that is abandoned and needs love. Maybe dog that is scared.” His excitement fades. “Because I understand this.”

 

Seamus excuses himself to the bathroom and allows himself precisely two minutes to cry, because… shit. 

 

His heart is just breaking all over again and it’s almost too much. There’s just been so much damage, and so much time wasted, but here’s this kid, this sweet kid who likes donuts and dogs and drawing and has been told for the last ten years that his mission in life is to kill people who look exactly like him. Told that he has to cut himself for God to forgive him, told that he doesn’t deserve to be saved, doused with bleach to ‘make him holy’...

 

Seamus actually throws up, right in the sink, at the memory of Gus in a cage, covered in bleach.

 

He’s going to make things right for Gus. 

 

He  _ has _ to make things right for Gus. 

 

* * *

 

Reed goes home the next day, and Seamus seems reluctant to leave Connor and Gus alone, but does so anyway. Reed’s left a couple of loaves of homemade bread, Seamus has bought donuts, so there’s plenty of food in the apartment. Gus seems content to happily sit on the sofa and continue watching Adventure Time, and Connor pulls out his laptop and starts working through his assignments, sent through via email by his teachers. 

 

If he agrees to go with Seamus and Gus, he won’t have to hand any of these in. 

 

But he hasn’t made his mind up yet, so he’s going to get them finished, because it’s what Ben would have wanted. 

 

Not that Connor’s got any idea what Ben would have wanted. He barely knew Ben. He didn’t know Ben. All he knows are anecdotes, second-hand stories and impressions. 

 

Yet somehow, he’s gotten wrapped up in this dead kid’s life. 

 

Weirdly, Connor thinks about Evan Hansen. 

 

He wonders if Evan ever thinks about the fact that he barely knew Connor, but people are acting like he did, and he’s the one standing there, saying things like ‘it’s what Connor would have wanted’ but not really knowing. 

 

The whole thing with Evan and his letter and his crush on his sister and the fact that Connor’s family totally bought that they’d been secretly friends… well, it’s bullshit, but it’s also kind of… 

 

Connor’s impersonating a dead clone and just got said dead clone’s boyfriend killed. 

 

It all just kind of happened to him. 

 

He’s got no real right to judge Evan Hansen. 

 

It takes a moment for Connor to realize the television has been turned off and Gus is looking at him attentively. “We have serious talk now,” Gus says, his voice grave. “Okay?”

 

Connor closes his laptop and braces himself. He’s pretty sure he knows what this is about. “Okay.”

 

“You do not decide whether you live in country with S and I,” Gus says, a little hesitant. “It is because you are also Ben Childs, yes?”

 

“Yeah,” Connor says, a little weirded out that his clone is so astute. 

 

“But you are not Ben Childs,” Gus continues. “But you have his life, and so… you feel you must live as him, yes?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Connor replies. “I feel like I… owe him, I don’t know. At least for a little while.”

 

Gus looks pensive. “You say we are brothers from same womb. Twins.” Connor nods, and Gus continues. “If so, it is good we are together. I would like this if we are together. But also… we are the same, but we are different. So maybe our choice is different too.” He kind of smiles. “For me, no choice. I go with S. Because if no, what do I do? Where do I go? I am… always, I am scared. It is the same ever since I am small. But S is good and kind and I feel… less scared. Maybe soon, not scared. So I stay with S, because is safe.” He looks at Connor, his eyes wide and unflinching. “I want for you to be safe too, and I am… sorry it is I who make you feel… not safe.”

 

“Hey,” Connor says gently. “No, it’s… we’re good, Gus. We’re good. You and I, we’re good, it’s just… it’s hard.” He takes in a deep breath. “If I decide not to go with you and S, it’s not because you make me feel unsafe, okay? It’s not because of that.” 

 

“It is because of Ben?” Gus asked hesitantly. 

 

Connor shrugs. “Maybe not entirely. Mostly I think…” he takes a deep breath and tries to explain things simply to his twin. “Connor Murphy is legally dead. Everyone thinks he’s dead. So right now, I’m Ben Childs, and Ben Childs is… it’s okay. I’m doing well at school, I’m applying for colleges, and I can see… I can see a future as Ben Childs. Sure it’s hard to keep it all straight in my head, but it’s… it’s not a bad life. Connor Murphy would have never gotten into college, but as Ben I can… I can do things and succeed and I kind of like that idea.”

 

Gus takes it all in for a few moments, then nods. “If you come with us, you will need new name,” he says, as though he’s coming to conclusion. “New name, with paper for identity. Not Connor Murphy. Not Ben Childs. Someone new. Is difficult to be three people.” He smiles. “Sometimes, is difficult to be one person.”

 

“You’re not wrong.”

 

“I think…” Gus trails off, then looks back at Connor, his expression almost fond. “I think that you are good person, Connor Murphy. And even if you are Connor or Ben or someone else, you always have the same heart.” He reaches over and gently taps Connor’s chest. “In here, always the same. Even though face has many names. So when you decide, you listen to this, yes? It is hard, and sometimes confusing, but heart is where God lives. Even if you cannot hear him, he is there. You listen, yes?”

 

“I’ll listen,” Connor assures his twin. “You’ll listen too, right? To your heart and not what people have told you?”

 

Gus has been through so much. So fucking much. He's been indoctrinated and trained and abused and turned into a killer but Connor knows him now. He knows that deep down, that's not who Gus is. 

 

That's not who his brother is. 

 

Gus nods, very seriously. “It is hard to listen, but I try. Tatiana says things that are not true to heart, but I was weak and did not know it was not God. I will be strong and listen to heart, and to God.”

 

“It’s not because you were weak,” Connor feels compelled to say. “It’s… it’s not that.”

 

Gus doesn’t look convinced, but he nods nonetheless. “You will listen to heart,” he says firmly. “We will eat donuts, and have adventure time with Jake the dog and Finn the human.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Jake is strange dog, but is still good. All dogs are good dogs.”

 

Connor takes a donut from Gus’s box (honestly, he’s eaten more donuts in the last week than he has in his entire life, but he can’t bring himself to care) and settles back on the couch next to his twin. Their knees touch, and he’s reminded of being a little kid and curling up to watch Spongebob with Zoe, and…

 

He fucked that up. 

 

He fucked up being a brother to Zoe, and now it’s too late. 

 

Whatever he decides, he’s not going to fuck up being a brother to Gus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	56. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party preparations are in full swing.

Plans for the clone 21st are underway, and Reed’s getting excited. For the most part, so are his other clones. They’ve been in touch with Lucas and Donna via Skype, which was hysterical because Donna genuinely cracked up laughing the minute she laid eyes on Reed. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she’d said, gasping for air in between giggles. “It’s just… Lucas with pink hair is something I never thought I’d see. Oh my god. This is better than the bearded hipster. So much better.”

 

“Connor shaved off his beard,” Reed had pointed out. They couldn’t figure out what was funnier - Donna’s amusement or Lucas’s scowl. “But he’s still a hipster. Let’s be real.”

 

“Oh my god, you have a lip piercing. Holy shit.” Donna burst into hysterical laughter again. “You’re just… you’re so fucking cool. This is hilarious, I just…” She doubled over in laughter and disappeared from the screen for a moment. 

 

“You just broke my fiancee,” Lucas said flatly. “I hope you’re happy.”

 

Once Donna pulled herself together, she had plenty of ideas for the weekend. By the time the call ended, Reed and Donna have put together a list of things to bring, which includes an epic amount of tequila, board games galore and Donna’s home karaoke machine, which Reed is looking forward to in a big way. 

 

They wonder if they can get Connor and Evan to duet if they’re drunk enough. 

 

The weekend before the clone getaway, Connor and Evan are both hanging out at Reed’s apartment. Evan’s on his laptop, doing something work-related and frowning deeply. Reed’s concerned. The last week or so Evan’s been… quiet. Very quiet, and very hesitant to talk about it. There’s this look of absolute anguish on his face when he thinks no one’s looking and Reed has the feeling that something is very, very wrong. 

 

From Connor’s worried look, he clearly feels it, too. 

 

“I’m going to take that laptop away from you in a minute,” Connor warns, munching on a samosa. “It’s the weekend. You need to relax.”

 

“I’ve got four whole days off work next week,” Evan points out, not looking up. “I’ve got to get things under control before then.”

 

“What’s been going on?” Reed asks bluntly. “I’ve barely seen you and Dr. McAllistair all week. You keep disappearing.”

 

Evan kind of frowns. “It’s classified.” He rubs his temple. “Sorry, I… I want to tell you, I really do, I’m just… getting my head around some stuff.”

 

Connor leans over and gently kisses Evan’s cheek. Evan shuts his laptop in a hurry, then leans his head against Connor’s shoulder. 

 

He still looks so tired. 

 

Connor positions himself on the couch and kind of pulls Evan onto his lap. It’s actually adorable and Evan seems to relax a little bit. Reed takes a spring roll and dips it in some plum sauce. 

 

“Everything ready for the party?” Connor asks. “Anything you need me to do?”

 

“Bring donuts,” says Evan immediately. 

 

Connor smiles. “Of course I’m bringing donuts. Like, a fuckton of donuts. Gus would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

 

Reed raises an eyebrow. “Gus is coming?”

 

Connor looks at Reed challengingly. “Well, yeah. It’s his 21st, too. He deserves to be there.”

 

Evan frowns. “Who’s Gus?”

 

Reed just looks at Connor incredulously. “Really, Connor? Really? You didn’t tell Evan about your evil twin?”

 

“He’s not evil,” Connor snaps back immediately. He looks at Evan a bit sheepishly. “But he is my twin, though. He’s… you’ll meet him, he’s nice. He likes donuts. He’s bringing his dog.”

 

“He has a dog?”

 

Connor nods. “Yep. Pampushka was a rescue, she’s a Samoyed and he’s like, obsessed with her. He’s actually done like a dog grooming course and is pretty good at it.”

 

“Still with Seamus?” Reed asks. 

 

“Yeah,” Connor confirms. He kind of frowns. “I, uh, I can’t tell you where they are, though. I saw them at Christmas, but they’re still… Seamus is still scared. Which is fair enough.”

 

“Who’s Seamus?” asks Evan. He’s sitting up now, on the other side of the sofa looking at Connor in mild alarm. “That’s where you were at Christmas? With Seamus and Gus?”

 

“Seamus is my dad,” Connor explains. He winces. “Kind of. Gus and I are twins. We were both born from the same surrogate mother and Seamus tried to keep us away from DYAD but… it didn’t work. Gus ended up in a monastery in Ukraine and… I ended up with the Murphy family.” 

 

Reed can see Evan processing this for a moment. “Wow,” he says finally. “So Gus is…”

 

“He’s my twin brother,” Connor says firmly. “He’s had a hard life. I don’t really want to get into it, there’s been some hard stuff but… I want you to meet him.” His expression softens. “I’ve wanted you to meet him for ages, it’s just… he’s technically in hiding, and I didn’t… look, Gus is hard to explain, but I promise that if you meet him and get to know him for him, you’ll love him. He’s… Gus is great.”

 

Reed wants very badly to say something about Gus’s teenage murdering habit but Connor’s shooting them such a warning look that they just… don’t say anything. 

 

They think back to their last interaction with Gus. Getting Gus stoned, cutting his hair, watching him eat everything in sight, watching Adventure Time together… 

 

Reed wants to give Gus the benefit of the doubt, they really do. And three years have passed, surely he’s had even more time to recover from some of the indoctrination that caused him to flat out murder clones. They know that Gus really is a sweet guy who had a traumatic, abusive upbringing but… 

 

Reed can’t stop thinking about the way Connor shut down when Guy was murdered right in front of him. 

 

Murdered by Gus. 

 

It’s hard. It’s been three years, but it’s hard. 

 

“Okay,” Evan says finally. He takes Connor’s hand. “Thank you for telling me.” He sighs. “I know there are things we can’t…”

 

“Yeah,” Connor says, a little uneasy. “It’s just… it’s not because I don’t…”

 

“It just is what it is,” Evan finishes up for him. 

 

“Yeah,” says Connor, squeezing Evan’s hand tightly. 

 

“So tell me about this dog,” says Evan, his tone overly bright. 

 

Connor laughs. “Okay, so Pampushka is Ukrainian for donut. Gus named her, obviously. He just… he really loves donuts, oh my god.”

 

“That explains why you keep bringing me donuts,” Evan muses. “Gus’s influence.”

 

“Well, yeah, at first,” Connor says with a grin. “But then it was just because you’d get all pouty and mad if I didn’t.”

 

“I do not get pouty.”

 

“You so do. There’s this little crinkle on your nose when you get pouty.” Connor chuckles. “You’re doing it right now. Right there.”

 

He leans in and kisses Evan’s nose and Reed rolls their eyes. “Please, refrain from the hanky panky on my sofa.”

 

“Hanky panky,” Evan repeats with a giggle. “Oh my god. Reed and their hanky panky with their booty buddy. It sounds like a really inappropriate children’s book.”

 

“Speaking of booty buddies,” Connor says with a grin, “you seeing anyone at the moment, Reed?”

 

Reed laughs. “Oh my god, when would I have time?” 

 

It’s proving more and more difficult to get in touch with Torpedo. He’s not answering his calls or messages or anything, and Reed is becoming increasingly more concerned. Finally, they decide that enough is enough and on their day off, they call Connor and the two of them drive to New Jersey to corner their clone in person. 

 

Torpedo’s room is still exactly the same as it was in high school, and they’ve both become experts at sneaking in undetected. When Connor and Reed arrive, it’s nearly 11 in the morning and Torpedo’s asleep. 

 

Reed turns on the light and crosses their arms. “Hey there, stranger,” they say. 

 

Torpedo jolts, sits up and fumbles around for his glasses. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

“Checking in on you,” Reed says, a little irritated. “You’ve been AWOL, dude. Just needed to make sure you’re on for the weekend.”

 

Torpedo puts on his glasses and kind of squints at the light. “I’ve got the flu,” he says apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ll make it.”

 

“Unacceptable,” Reed shoots back. “Even if you’re sick, you’re coming along. You can just chill out and sleep and rest at the lake house. But you need to be there with us. It’s our 21st. We all need to be together.”

 

“He does look pretty sick,” Connor says, his expression suddenly concerned. “It’s just the flu, right? Not headaches?”

 

“Just the flu,” Torpedo says firmly. “It’s not… it’s not the clone illness, I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

 

Connor’s expression doesn’t budge. “You would tell us if you were sick, wouldn’t you?”

 

Torpedo chuckles weakly. “Of course I would.”

 

“I’m not letting you miss this,” Reed insists. “I’m just… I’m not. Connor can pick you up on the way. Right, Connor?”

 

“Sure,” says Connor, still looking very unconvinced at Torpedo’s response. He sits down on the edge of Torpedo’s bed and puts the back of his hand against Torpedo’s forehead. He frowns. “You’re too warm, dude. You really don’t look great. Are you sure it’s-”

 

“For the last time, it’s just the flu,” Torpedo snaps. “It’s the middle of winter, it’s flu season. And you’ll all get sick if I come to the lake house so I should just stay home-”

 

“Nope,” Reed interrupts. “Nope. Sorry. I’m not budging on this.”

 

“Stubbornness is genetic,” says Connor with a small smile. “I’ll pick you up, we’ll take the journey slow with lots of rest stops for food and snacks, I’ll even let you pick the music. How about that?”

 

Torpedo sighs. “Fine. I’m just… fine.”

 

“It might be worth you coming into DYAD to do some testing,” Reed ventures, keeping their voice careful. “You seem… I don’t know, there could be a link between the flu and the illness, or it could make you more susceptible-”

 

“I’m not going anywhere near DYAD,” Torpedo says firmly. “I’m not.” He swallows and looks away. “And even if I wanted to, how would it happen? Would Evan have to make up some other story about how he found me in New Jersey? Wouldn’t they get suspicious that Evan’s magically running into clones all over the show?”

 

“To be fair, they haven’t exactly spaced us out,” Reed points out. “Like, we have run into a ridiculous number of us in a pretty small amount of space. Someone did not think this through.”

 

“Thinking things through isn’t DYAD’s strong point,” says Torpedo, his tone a little dark. “They just want to play God.” They fix Connor with a pointed look. “Ask your boyfriend what happened to Yorick.”

 

Connor frowns. “What?”

 

“The clone he found in Argentina?” Torpedo clarifies. “Just last week. You called me, I did some research and found out that he’s totally off the grid. His surrogate mother is DYAD, his dads are in Ontario, he’s been running around the world unsupervised… and it’s been a week and we haven’t had an update on him. Isn’t that weird? Where did he go?”

 

Reed’s blood runs cold. 

 

They think about Evan’s weird behavior recently. His sadness, his quietness, his secrecy. From the look of horror on Connor’s face, he’s starting to put it together, too. 

 

“Evan wouldn’t…” Connor trails off. 

 

“I can’t know for sure,” Torpedo says firmly, “but I’m pretty fucking convinced that Yorick’s in a DYAD basement somewhere, getting cut open so they can figure out what’s making him sick.”

 

“Evan wouldn’t do that,” Connor says again, but sounds less sure. 

 

Torpedo sighs. “In his defense, I doubt it was his decision. He’s just part of the machine. But I’d have that conversation with him and see how it goes. DYAD is… DYAD is dangerous, and willing to do some fucked up stuff to get the results they want. And at the end of the day… all of us, we’re just an experiment to them.”

 

Connor kind of recoils at that and Reed looks at him, expression concerned. “I don’t think he means that Evan…”

 

“He seems like a good guy,” Torpedo says, a little more gently, “in an awful position. We just… we need to be careful. DYAD has a way of… twisting people. Making them into something they’re not. Making them justify things that…” Torpedo winces a little, and rubs his temple. 

 

“Headache?” Connor asks sharply.

 

“Normal headache,” Torpedo shoots back quickly. “I have the flu. Quit being paranoid.”

 

Connor folds his arms and looks at his shoes for a moment. Reed’s not sure what to say or do, but…

 

They’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Torpedo’s right about Yorick. 

 

And about Evan. 

 

And, with a sinking feeling in their chest, they realize that Connor might be right about Torpedo. 

 

The next day at DYAD, Reed doesn’t know what to say to Evan, but Evan’s still quiet and reserved, so they just… don’t mention it. Chances are there are going to be some difficult discussions in the weekend, so… they’re going to leave it for now. 

 

Hannah’s on Skype, and Evan immediately perks up at the sight of her. She’s got news. 

 

“So I’m coming to town the second week in March,” she says with a grin. “So I can work with you all in person. Dr. McAllistair got it all sorted for me. And Zoe doesn’t have Friday classes this semester, so she’s going to fly down on Thursday night so we can spend the weekend together and fly back Sunday afternoon.” She smiles widely. “I thought it could be cool for the four of us to have dinner, maybe? Reed, I’d love you to meet Zoe.” 

 

Evan looks like he’s about to have a panic attack on the spot so Reed jumps in. “I’d love to meet her, too,” they say warmly. “It’ll be fun. There are some great vegan restaurants in town.”

 

“Apparently Zoe’s mom used to be really into vegan stuff and was just… terrible at cooking it,” Hannah says with a chuckle. “Just make sure it’s tasty, or she might break into hives from the post-traumatic stress.” She frowns a little. “You okay, Evan?”

 

“Just remembered I forgot something,” he says with a weak smile. “It’s all good, I’ll sort it out. I’ll be great to see you, Hannah.”

 

The call ends and Reed takes Evan’s arm. “How about we take a break for coffee around the corner?” they say meaningfully, then drag their friend through the DYAD corridors and out into the street.

 

“What the hell were you thinking, agreeing to have dinner with Hannah and Zoe?” Evan hisses as soon as they’re out of the building where no one can hear them. 

 

“I’ll get the flu when they’re here and miss dinner, obviously,” Reed replies quickly. “Flat out refusing would have just been suspicious.”

 

“Right,” Evan mutters. “Okay, of course, that makes sense.” He rubs his face tiredly. 

 

Reed stops for a moment. “Evan,” he says carefully. “What happened to Yorick?”

 

Evan goes white. Reed’s heart sinks. 

 

“I can’t tell you that,” Evan whispers.

 

Reed’s stomach is churning. “What’s the plan to get him out?” he asks quietly. 

 

“There isn’t one,” Evan says, even quieter. “I… I want to but I… it’s so fucked up, Reed, it’s just so fucked up, but the data we could collect for the cure with a subject who’s at this stage of the illness…”

 

Reed takes in a shaky breath. “It’s… it’s not okay, Evan. What you’re doing is torture. You know this. You’re better than this.”

 

“I know it is,” Evan mutters. “And I want to be better than this. I do. But how… I can’t see a way of helping him escape without blowing my cover, and if I blow my cover then what about the cure? What about you and Connor and Torpedo and Lucas? How can I help you then?”

 

“The cure is for all the clones,” Reed says pointedly. “Not just the ones you know. It has to be. We… DYAD can’t just decide who lives and who dies.”

 

“I don’t know what to do,” Evan whispers. “I don’t want this. I don’t want this but… we’ve got to pick our battles. Right?”

 

“We’ll talk about it in the weekend,” Reed says, tone clipped. “All of us, together. You can’t just… you can’t just make decisions that affect all of us-”

 

“I’m in a very different position to you,” Evan snaps. “And the decisions that are made aren’t always mine. I just have to…”

 

They have to stop for a minute as Evan has a full on panic attack on the side of the road. Reed guides him to a park bench, then guides him through some breathing exercises to calm him down, and tries not to sigh in frustration. 

 

Evan’s got a good heart. Reed knows this. 

 

But Evan would do anything to cure Connor. 

 

Not all the clones. 

 

Connor. 

 

Evan’s loyalties are with Connor, and Reed, and even Torpedo and Lucas, but not to all of them, however many there are. 

 

Reed just hopes that Evan can get through this all with his heart and soul intact. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	57. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Gus say their goodbyes.

Gus likes it when Connor and S are at the apartment and they are all together, but it cannot last, for S must work to finish notice and Connor must go to school.

 

Gus has never gone to school and thinks he would have liked it, but does not want to go no because he does not write and read the English well and he does not want people to think that he is stupid. 

 

There is a week where Gus is alone in the apartment. Connor gives him a phone and shows him how to make messages, and while Connor is at school being Ben, he sends messages during the day when he has time. 

 

It is nice, to know that someone is thinking of him, even though he is not in the same place. 

 

It makes Gus relax. Connor will not forget him, even if he does not see him.

 

Connor has not yet told S that he is not coming with them to the country, but Gus knows. If Connor was coming, they would be making plans, but he is still being Ben, and doing homework, and writing many things. 

 

S gives Gus a book for drawing, and it is very nice. The pages feel very smooth and he has nice pens to make beautiful things. Gus likes to do drawing of all the things in the apartment and put them on the fridge, because he sees drawings on fridges in TV shows and thinks that this must be where they live. 

 

He has drawn many donuts. And the most fluffy dogs. 

 

These are things he likes. 

 

S has also found Gus a computer, and he is learning slowly how to make it work. It is small and thin and he can look on the internet, which is good. He knows about the internet but never sees it, and he thinks it is quite useful. He wants to learn about things. He quite likes Wikipedia, because he can read it in his language, and make notes to learn new words in English. 

 

When he is small, he finds many books in English and tries to understand words. Tatiana does not like this - she says it is waste - so she would take them if she found them. Gus became good at hiding, but did not keep books for long. Instead, he would make notes in his small book in pocket, and remember new words. 

 

He decides he would like to cook things, like Reed does, and finds recipes on internet. He makes list for recipe for  rosolnyk, which he remembers from when he is small, and finds the words in English so he can ask S if it is okay for him to buy things for him to make rosolnyk. 

 

S is happy when Gus gives him list and says that he will get foods for the recipe, which Gus thinks is very kind. He likes that S is kind and very generous. It is like monks, but less rules. 

 

The monks are kind but have many rules. Gus is quiet when small and likes to follow rules, because he does not like when people are angry at him. 

 

Tatiana is always angry at him. 

 

It is because he has demons. 

 

Gus wants, very much, to cut his wings and be pure. 

 

But he remembers how sad it makes S. How sad it makes Connor. He does not wish for them to be sad because of him, so he will not. 

 

His back is itching, even though what he is wearing is soft against his skin. 

 

He remembers what Connor says, about his heart, and he closes his eyes and listens to God. 

 

The voice of God is very, very small. 

 

Gus must listen harder. 

 

When Connor comes back from the school, he brings a cake, and Gus is very happy to eat cake with his brother on the sofa. It is always better when Connor is here. 

 

It is always better when he is not alone. His back does not itch as much when he is not alone. 

 

“How is the school?” he asks. “You have good learning, yes?”

 

“I’ve got this whole chemistry lab report to write up,” Connor says, frowning. “I used to have a lab partner but now I work by myself and… it’s just more work.”

 

“I would like to help,” Gus says, feeling a bit sad, “but I do not know this.”

 

“It’s okay,” says Connor, and he smiles, and Gus feels a bit better. “Did you have a good day?”

 

Gus nods. “There is picture on fridge. I draw many things.”

 

Connor stands up fast and goes to look at fridge and Gus follows, in case Connor has questions on pictures. “These are really good,” Connor says. His face is happy and Gus likes this. 

 

“It is type of dog,” Gus explains. “Samoyed. Very big. Very fluffy. Like cloud, or donut with much sugars. I like this dog.” Then he points at another photo. “This is Reed. See their hairs? Pink. Is strange, to draw familiar face.” 

 

He thinks about the face. 

 

The face of Connor, the face of Reed and the face of Gus. 

 

All the same. 

 

He thinks about the face of the clones that are dead. 

 

Dead by his hand. 

 

Because he was told it would bring him to God. 

 

Now that he has killed, God will not want him. 

 

“Excuse me,” he says, and goes into the room he is staying and shuts the door. 

 

His back is itching. 

 

He is very tired. 

 

His heart is very heavy and the voice of God cannot be heard. 

 

He must be very quiet when the tears come. 

 

He curls into a ball in the corner and prays for forgiveness in his mind. 

 

Then there is a hand on his shoulder, and a soft voice, and it takes some time for him to understand the words, because he is very sad, but he knows it is Connor, and that Connor will forgive him even if God does not. 

 

“You are kind to me, even though I do not deserve this.”

 

It is quiet for a moment, then Connor finally speaks. “You do deserve it.”

 

Gus’s heart is very heavy and he does not know what he believes anymore. 

 

* * *

 

Connor spends the week in a haze of confusion. He goes to class and doesn’t talk to anyone unless he has to. He avoids Pippa, he avoids everyone, he disappears into the bathroom to text Gus between classes. Gus still hasn’t quite got the hang of either texting or the English language, so his texts don’t make a lot of sense. 

 

From: Gus

_ pickle _

_ youlike pickle _

_ pickle soup i make today _

_ very nice _

 

Connor does not like pickles particularly, but if Gus is cooking something, he’ll damn well try to eat it. Gus has had enough hardship in his life and doesn’t need to deal with Connor being snobby about pickles. 

 

Pippa, thankfully, gives him a wide berth, which is a relief, but he does catch her looking at him with a sad expression every now and then. 

 

He’ll talk to her later. 

 

When it’s not so raw. 

 

When thinking about Jerome isn’t just…

 

Too much. 

 

When he gets home from school on Wednesday, Gus is nowhere to be found. Connor’s heart plummets, remembering his breakdown from the previous day, then goes into the guest room to find Gus shirtless and carving into his back. 

 

He’s almost sick. 

 

Gus jolts as he sees him and drops the knife in shame. “I do not want you to see,” he says unhappily. “It is… I must do penance, for all the things I have done.”

 

“Not like this,” Connor says, taking the knife and resolving to get rid of it. “Not like this.”

 

He goes to find the first aid kit, still carrying the knife, and all of a sudden he’s fourteen years old on the floor of the bathroom, watching his life spill out from his bloody wrists, and - 

 

He drops the knife, gets the first aid kit and pushes it out of his mind. 

 

There aren’t a lot of scars on Gus’s back, Connor muses, considering how ingrained this habit seems to be. He gently cleans the blood from his twin’s back and bandages up the deepest scars and then Gus just… grabs Connor into a hug and they sit there on the floor for a long time. 

 

Long enough for Seamus to come home and go pale at the sight of them. The blood. The bandages. 

 

Connor’s so tired. 

 

He’s so, so tired. 

 

He can’t get to sleep that night, so he pulls out his clone phone and calls Torpedo. He answers on the first ring. 

 

“Are you okay?” Torpedo asks immediately. 

 

“I don’t know,” Connor replies honestly. “Did Reed tell you about…”

 

“About Seamus and Gus going off the grid and wanting you to come with them? Yeah.” Torpedo sighs. “How are you feeling about that?”

 

“I don’t know,” he says again. “I… I want to help Gus, I do, but… he’s so broken and I’m just… it hurts to be around him sometimes. But he’s my twin, he’s my brother and I should… I owe him, right? But I also owe Ben to keep… keep living his life.”

 

“You’re talking a lot about what you owe people,” Torpedo says gently. “But not about what’s best for you.”

 

“I don’t know. I really don’t fucking know.”

 

“For what it’s worth,” says Torpedo, his voice a little hesitant, “we’d miss you if you disappeared. I definitely would. I know Reed would. I’m actually pretty sure Lucas would, too.”

 

“Who would remind Lucas that he’s a dick if I’m not around?” Connor jokes weakly. 

 

“Me, probably,” Torpedo says, the traces of a laugh in his voice. “I think you need to decide what’s going to be best for you, Connor. Gus is… he’s had a lot happen to him, and he’s… I don’t want to say that he’s dangerous, but he’s… unpredictable. What’s been done to him, it’s made him unstable and while I’m sure that Seamus won’t let anything happen to you, I feel like…” Torpedo sighs. “I feel like maybe it wouldn’t be great for you. To be with him. He’s… he’s pretty traumatized, but so are you, and… Seamus seems great, but his top priority has to be Gus and I don’t want you to be forgotten.”

 

“That wouldn’t happen,” Connor replies, and he means it. He trusts Seamus. It’s weird, because he doesn’t trust easily, but there’s something familiar and… he just does. 

 

He wonders what it would be like to not have him to rely on anymore. 

 

It’s… it’s hard to think about. 

 

But he coped before, and could cope again, and if he stays as Ben…

 

He’s got Reed. He’s got Torpedo. He’s even got Lucas, obnoxious as he may be. 

 

But he wouldn’t have Seamus and he wouldn’t have Gus. 

 

“Are there ways for us to keep in touch securely?” Connor asks. “If I stayed, I wouldn’t… I want to keep in touch with Gus. Maybe emails or something. He wants to get better and reading and writing in English, so… could you set us up something really secure?”

 

“I can absolutely do that,” Torpedo says. Connor can almost hear him nodding. “Does that mean you’re staying?”

 

“I think I am,” Connor admits. “Do you think I’m making the right choice?”

 

“I can’t make that call,” Torpedo says. “But at least you’re making a choice.”

 

* * *

 

Seamus has a car and a plan. He’s tied up all his loose ends in New York. He knows what he’s doing, he knows where he’s going and he’s hoping against all hope that he and Gus are going to be fine. 

 

He just wishes Connor was coming with them. 

 

It hadn’t been an easy conversation. Connor had tried to explain his reasons, apologetic and apprehensive, and Seamus had just… hugged him and told him he was proud of him and that if he ever needed them, there was always a way to contact them in an emergency. 

 

But that they couldn’t keep in touch too often. 

 

Seamus isn’t risking the Proletheans coming after Gus. 

 

He hopes that Gus is going to be okay, but sometimes he can’t quite figure out how. Not when he’s still carving wings into his back when he’s left alone because he feels like he has to pay penance. Not when he wakes up in the middle of the night screaming. Not when he’s still eating everything in sight like soon someone’s going to take food away from him. 

 

But when Gus is happily serving up an utterly foul-smelling soup with a proud smile, when he’s putting his art on the fridge and explaining patiently what everything is, when he’s laughing at something on the television and asking Connor questions about language and listing out all the dog breed names he’s memorized…

 

Seamus thinks it could be alright. 

 

They decide to say their goodbyes in the apartment. Gus has painfully little to pack up, and most of it is stuff they’ve obtained for him in the last two weeks. Connor gives him a bag from Ben’s closet and fills it up with the softest clothes he can find. (Gus doesn’t have any particularly strong opinions on fashion, he just likes things that are soft. Seamus thinks, eventually, he’s going to have to talk Gus out of wearing sweatpants everywhere but for now, he’s just going to let him be comfortable.)

 

Seamus gives Connor a hug, and Connor kind of sniffs. Seamus pretends not to notice, because if he says anything he’ll probably start crying as well. “You look after yourself, you hear me?” Seamus says to Connor. “And you keep the rest of your brothers close. They’ll keep you grounded.”

 

“Yeah,” says Connor, his voice rough. Then he turns to Gus. Gus tears up, and grabs Connor into a hug. 

 

They hold each other for a long time. 

 

“I will miss you much,” Gus says sadly. “But we will see each other again, yes?”

 

“Yes,” says Connor, almost immediately. “You’re going to be okay, right? You’re going to… I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore, Gus.”

 

“I will try,” Gus says. He’s crying properly now, but still completely silent. Seamus hates the fact that Gus is quiet when he cries. “You as well. Do not be hurting.” He taps Connor’s chest. “Listen to this, yes?”

 

“You too,” Connor replies, and he’s tearing up, and then Gus beckons Seamus over and the three of them embrace for a long moment. 

 

When they break apart, Connor is wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and offering a weak smile. “Take the donuts for the road,” he says, handing Gus a box. “I went out and got them while you were getting ready.”

 

“You are good brother,” says Gus with a smile. “We will send emails, yes? I will write and you will help my English. Many emails.”

 

“Many emails,” Connor assures him. 

 

They hug one last time, and as Seamus and Gus go to leave, Gus walks backward out the apartment, his eyes never leaving Connor until the door shuts behind them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	58. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone Club's Epic 21st Getaway, Part 1.

Evan rents a car for the weekend away. He’s more paranoid than ever that DYAD is tracing his car, so he decides to leave it at home and rent something, paying for it entirely in cash. He picks up Reed in it and they set out on the drive after work on Thursday, driving through the night until they arrive at the lake house in the early hours of the morning. 

 

Reed directs him to the bedroom he’ll be sharing with Connor once he arrives and Evan falls asleep almost instantly. When he wakes up, it’s mid-morning and it’s to the sound of Connor putting his suitcase in the wardrobe. He sits up and Connor immediately turns to him, looking pleased to see him but with a hint of… something in his eyes. 

 

Evan hasn’t seen Connor in a few days. Not since that conversation with Reed about…

 

Connor knows. 

 

“Hey,” says Connor gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning in to kiss him. “Reed says you guys got in late last night? They’re just doing a grocery run with Donna and Lucas.”

 

“The gang’s all here,” says Evan, getting out of bed and throwing on some clothes. “I guess we’d better go be sociable then.”

 

He moves to the door and Connor grabs his wrist gently. “Can we talk first?” he asks.

 

“Depends on what you want to talk about,” Evan replies but sits next to Connor on the edge of the bed anyway. 

 

Connor sighs. “You know what I want to talk about, Evan.” He sighs again. “Look, I… I’ve thought about it a lot and I… I get it, but I hate it. We should… we should all talk about it later, see if there’s something that can be done to get Yorick out of there that doesn’t blow your cover. Or Reed’s. I…” he rubs his face, and Evan can see he looks almost as tired as Evan himself feels. 

 

“This was never going to be easy,” Evan says quietly. “Can we just… can we just not talk about it for a while? Can it just… be your birthday?”

 

Connor’s quiet for a long moment then nods. “Okay. You’re right, we’re here to get away from things. We should get downstairs.”

 

Evan leans in to kiss him, and Connor leans into it eagerly, and it’s just so easy to get wrapped up in each other and they barely notice that time has passed until there’s a sharp knock on the door and an irritated voice telling them to get downstairs. Connor breaks off the kiss, groans then flings open the door.

 

Lucas is standing there, arms crossed in annoyance. Evan waves feebly and stands up to greet him.

 

“Gus is here,” Lucas says to Connor sharply. “He just pulled up in a van with a dog and he’s your responsibility.”

 

Connor rolls his eyes, but he looks pleased with the news and beckons to Evan to follow him downstairs and out the front door. Evan has to practically jog to catch up with Connor and when they get outside, he hears barking. 

 

A big, fluffy white dog comes bounding toward Connor and he kneels down to give pet it. “Hey Pampushka,” says Connor with a grin. “It’s good to see you. Where’s the boss, huh? Where’s Gus?”

 

“I’m getting my bag,” says a voice from the back of the van. It’s an almost Russian sounding accent, and it’s smooth and pleasant.  “Have patience, Connor.”

 

“You hear that?” Connor says to the dog. “He’s telling me to have patience. As if he didn’t email me every day for a month counting down to my visit at Christmas.” 

 

There’s a laugh, and Evan gets a glimpse of Gus. He’s got long hair, just like Connor’s, and a brilliant smile. He’s wearing a soft looking flannel shirt, a jacket and jeans, carrying a duffle bag and heads straight to Connor, pulling him into a firm hug. 

 

It’s uncanny. The hair, the smiles - they match completely.

 

Evan thought he was getting used to these genetic identicals, and he is to an extent, but… 

 

Now that Connor's shaved off his beard, Gus and Connor are carbon copies of each other. If it weren’t for the outfits and the accent, there’d be no telling them apart. 

 

Gus turns to Evan and smiles widely. “You are Evan,” he says, pulling Evan into a hug. “Connor’s Evan. I’ve heard much about you.” He smiles and puts his hands on Evan’s shoulders. “My brother, he loves you very much. You are all he talks about at Christmas.”

 

Connor kind of rolls his eyes and turns a little pink. Evan smiles back at Gus. “It’s so nice to meet you, Gus,” he says, and Gus smiles even more. 

 

“He is very nice, your Evan,” Gus says to Connor. “I am glad you have someone nice and handsome. It’s good for you.” Gus slaps Connor on the back, then wraps his arm around him. 

 

It’s a little bit mind-blowing to watch, to be honest. Evan remembers Connor being so closed off in high school, and can’t imagine him ever having been okay with this much casual physical contact. Even now, he’s still not the most physically affectionate in public, though in private he’s not shy about contact. Seeing the two of them so comfortable with each other is…

 

Well, it’s nice. 

 

Evan decides he likes Gus. Anyone who can make Connor smile like that and relax is okay in his book. 

 

The dog comes up to Evan, sniffs his knees and wags its tail. Evan reaches down to pet it and it nuzzles his hand. Evan smiles. 

 

“She likes you!” Gus exclaims, grinning widely at Evan. “Pampushka is a very good girl. She knows when people are good, too. Very clever.”

 

“She’s beautiful,” Evan says, running his hand through her soft fur. “She’s really soft.”

 

“It is hard sometimes to keep her clean because she likes adventures,” says Gus, patting Evan on the shoulder. “But she is a very good girl, and stays still when it is bath time, and I brush her hairs and make her soft again.” He clicks his fingers and Pampushka jumps up on him. 

 

Evan can’t help laugh at the sight of this man who’s the spitting image of his boyfriend, hugging a giant fluffy dog.

 

“Let’s get inside and see the others,” Connor says, taking Gus’s bag off him despite his protests. They head into the house and Evan dimly realizes he doesn’t actually have shoes on and his socks are now soaked through, so goes to change them while the others get acquainted. When he gets back downstairs, a woman with curly red hair is fussing over Pampushka. 

 

“You’re such a good girl, Pampushka,” says the redheaded woman. She looks at Gus. “What does her name mean?”

 

“Donut,” Gus proclaims proudly. “I love donuts and I love dogs. Also, she is white and soft like the outside of the powdered donut, yes?”

 

“Can’t fault that logic,” says the woman. Then she looks at Evan and smiles. “You must be Evan. I’m Donna. Nice to see a not familiar face.”

 

Evan laughs. “It never gets less weird, does it?”

 

There’s a resounding chorus of ‘no’ from the entire room. Reed’s putting food on the table, while Torpedo sits quietly on the sofa. Evan notes, a little concerned, that Torpedo seems pretty out of it. He wonders if he’s stoned. 

 

Connor comes over to Evan, kisses him on the forehead then follows his gaze to Torpedo, who’s kind of staring into space. “Is he okay?” Evan asks quietly. 

 

Connor frowns. “He was quiet on the drive here. Said he’s tired. He’s recovering from the flu.”

 

Evan doesn’t think that’s the only thing wrong with him. “I don’t want to cause trouble,” Evan says quietly, “but I don’t know if I buy that it’s just the flu. He looks… well, I know what a sick clone looks like.”

 

Connor takes Evan’s hand and squeezes it tightly. Evan squeezes back. 

 

After the fiasco with Yorick and DYAD, Evan knows there’s no way he’ll convince Torpedo to come in for testing. And he’s not even sure if he should. 

 

“There’s food!” Reed announces, bringing in a plate of what looks like garlic knots. 

 

“It’s not vegan, is it?” Lucas asks, kind of wrinkling his nose. 

 

Donna whacks him on the arm. “You eat what you’ve been given, Mr. Freeman. And you apologize to your sibling this instant.”

 

Connor cracks up laughing as Lucas mumbles out an apology. “Oh my god, you’re so whipped.”

 

“I’m not even going to respond to that one,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes and helping himself to some a garlic knot.

 

“There are donuts in my van,” Gus announces. “I will bring them in.” He kneels down to say something to his dog in what must be Ukrainian, and the dog very obediently walks over to Connor, who seems completely unperturbed by this.

 

“He’s got this dog ridiculously well trained,” Evan says to Connor, watching as Gus leaves. 

 

“You have no idea,” Connor replies with a chuckle. “He’s taught her all kinds of tricks, it’s actually the cutest thing ever.” He leans down and pets the dog. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you Pampushka? Bilingual, too.” Connor smiles at Evan. “I've been trying to teach myself Ukrainian but I am completely useless at languages. I barely passed the Spanish paper I had to take to cover the language requirement.”

 

“And yet you’ve still got an A average,” Torpedo says with a roll of his eyes. Evan’s glad to see him up, even though he does look a little shaky, and is even gladder to see him helping himself to some food. 

 

“I told you that in confidence,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “Way to ruin my street cred, Torpedo.”

 

“I’m not surprised,” Evan says. “I always knew you were secretly a genius.”

 

Connor snorts. “Right. Okay.”

 

“I’m serious,” Evan insists. “We worked on a history report together back in sophomore year, remember?”

 

Connor blinks. “No?” He kind of tilts his head. “I was high for most of sophomore year.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Evan says with a roll of his eyes. “You like, wouldn’t talk to me about meeting up to work on it, no matter what I did, and I was completely convinced we were going to fail and you weren’t going to do your half so I did the whole thing, but you showed up the morning it was due with, like, a perfect full report that made way more sense than mine and we both got an A.”

 

Torpedo cracks up laughing and Connor looks guilty. “I have no memory of this at all, oh my god.” He takes Evan’s hand and kisses the knuckles gently. “Sorry I was such a dick back then. I probably stressed you out, huh?” He smiles a little sadly. “It’d be nice if I could stop stressing you out so much now.”

 

Evan doesn’t know what to say, so just wraps an arm around Connor and kisses his cheek. “You’re fine,” he says quietly. 

 

“Stop being gross by the food,” Torpedo says with a roll of his eyes. 

 

“Donuts for all!” Gus announces cheerfully, and Evan has to laugh because Gus has genuinely brought in a pile of at least a dozen boxes of donuts, and if there are a dozen donuts per box, that makes 144 donuts, and that’s just too funny. 

 

“Do you think there’ll be enough?” Connor jokes. 

 

Gus puts them down on the table and frowns. “I will get more if we need.”

 

“Gus, I’m kidding.”

 

Gus grins. “A joke! Very good!” He opens a box, takes a donut and says something to Pampushka in Ukrainian, and she holds out a paw. Gus puts the donut on her paw, she puts it on the ground and eats it happily. “Pampushka for Pampushka.”

 

“I made sangria!” Donna says, coming in from the kitchen with 2 pitchers as Lucas follows with some glasses. “Never too early for sangria, especially when we’re on vacation.” She looks at Torpedo for a moment. “You doing alright there, Torpedo? You look a little pale.” She pours him a glass of sangria and hands it to him. “Here you go. Get outside of this.” She looks at the table. “Ooh, donuts!”

 

Evan finishes his bread roll, then takes a donut and happily accepts a glass of sangria from Donna. Soon the group is all sitting in the lounge, having brought the donuts, garlic knots and sangria from the dining room onto the coffee table, laughing and joking around about completely ridiculous things. Gus and Pampushka demonstrate some of the tricks the dog has learned. Torpedo tells a story about a video game he’s testing. Connor talks about some gallery opening he went to. It’s all simple and domestic and nice and has nothing to do with the fact that out of the seven people in this room, five have the exact same face. 

 

“Okay,” Donna announces, standing to her feet. “I’m getting the karaoke machine out of the car. Lucas, would you be a darling and use your big strong man muscles to carry it for me?”

 

“Off you go, Lucas,” Connor says with a grin. “Use your big strong man muscles.”

 

“Fuck off, Connor.”

 

“You need help?” Gus offers. “I can help. I lift many large dogs. I can carry heavy things.”

 

“You’re off the hook!” Donna says to Lucas, pulling Gus to his feet. “I’ve got a new big strong man now.”

  
A brief look of panic flashes across Lucas’ face. “I’ll help as well,” he says, his tone a little uneasy, and there’s a moment of tension that Evan feels, but doesn’t understand. The three of them head out to the car, and Evan turns to Connor.

 

“What was that all about?” he asks quietly. Connor winces. Reed shoots Connor a pointed look, and Torpedo just raises his hands in surrender, as if saying that this has nothing to do with him. Evan frowns. “Connor?”

 

“Gus has had a hard life,” Connor says, his tone a little defensive. “He grew up in a monastery, but was taken by religious extremists when he was eight. They call themselves Proletheans and… well, they were started by a former DYAD scientist who decided that human cloning was an offense against God. They…” Connor takes a breath, and continues. “They trained Gus to kill clones. We met when he was seventeen and… we got him away from the Proletheans. Seamus took him away to help him recover and now he’s… well, you’ve met him, you can see that he’s fine. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Connor blinks, and Evan’s sure that he’s fighting back tears. “They tortured him. They tortured and abused him and made him into a killer, but that’s not who is he. You can see that, just by looking at him now. He’s a dog groomer, for fuck’s sake. A dog groomer who likes painting and donuts. He’s… he doesn’t deserve to be judged for the mistakes he’s made in the past, when he was literally fucking brainwashed into killing.” Connor crosses his arms and flops back on the sofa next to Evan. 

 

Evan tries to process this. “How many did he kill?” he asks quietly. 

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“I guess not.”

 

“Seventeen,” Torpedo says quietly. “That’s what the records I have say. Seventeen, all across Europe.”

 

Connor goes pale, and shakes his head. “He’s not a killer anymore,” he insists. “He never wanted to be. He… they made him hurt himself, they told him it was how he’d do penance for his sins and… when he realized that the clones he’d killed weren’t demons, but just like him, he…” Connor closes his eyes and takes in a ragged breath. Evan takes his hand and he squeezes it tightly. “He’s spent a long time trying to punish himself for what he’s done. He doesn’t… he doesn’t need us to punish him as well. He just… he just wants to be normal and happy and eat donuts and hang out with his dog. And with his family.”

 

Torpedo’s pale. Too pale. Evan can’t tell if it’s from what Connor’s just said or something else.

 

“It’s good that he’s here,” Reed says gently, “but you have to understand that Lucas is still nervous. He doesn’t… he’s allowed to feel the way he does. It’s not easy to forget - the fact that he killed so many of us.”

 

“He didn’t know,” says Connor quietly, his tone almost pleading. “And he deserves to be here.”

 

“He does,” says Reed simply. “Just… be patient, okay?”

 

“Be patient, Connor,” says Gus pleasantly, clearly only catching the tail end of what Reed was saying as he brings in what looks kind of like a speaker. “It is hard for Connor. He is not a patient man. Sometimes, you must wait for the good things, Connor.” He puts the speaker down in the room and smiles warmly at Connor. “Impatient brother, but good brother all the same.”

 

It’s going to take some time for Evan to reconcile the knowledge that this soft, sweet guy with a big fluffy dog who brought over 100 donuts to this party and clearly adores his brother murdered 17 people. He doesn’t think he believes it, but everyone’s reactions seem to imply that it’s true. 

 

He chances a look at Connor, who’s clearly trying to put on a brave face for Gus’s sake. Evan would have to be an idiot not to have clicked as to just how important Gus is to his boyfriend. 

 

Evan decides he’s going to take Gus at face value, as much as he can. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S CLONE CLUB PARTY TIME!
> 
> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com WITH YOUR CLONE KARAOKE REQUESTS. If you're lucky, I'll include some of your suggestions when the gang get to singing in Chapter 60.


	59. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor adjusts.

The apartment is too quiet. 

 

Connor’s gotten used to there being people in it for the last two weeks, and now that it’s just him, it’s just terribly, terribly quiet. 

 

It’s just him, a freezer full of vegan soup and his thoughts. 

 

Which are… not the healthiest. 

 

He misses Jerome. 

 

Misses the way he’d show up to hang out, misses the way he filled up the empty space in this too fancy apartment, misses his dumb jokes and his weird competitiveness about history assignments and the way he smelled and the way he kissed and…

 

Connor just misses him. 

 

He’s realizing now, just how big a part of his life Jerome was. 

 

How he was always there when Connor needed him. 

 

Well, when Ben needed him, he guesses. It’s still… confusing. 

 

Connor thinks that Jerome loved Ben. 

 

And he kind of… suspects that if there’d been time to adjust to it, time to make things make sense…

 

He could have loved Connor, too. 

 

Connor thinks he loved Jerome. 

 

And he doesn’t know what to do with that information. He’s not a hundred percent sure he loved Jerome, because he hasn’t been in love before. 

 

Connor had figured out he was gay after Zoe made him go see The Hunger Games with her and he found himself googling pictures of the guy who played Peeta when he got home and, like, saving them on his phone and looking at them all the time. 

 

But he’d never really had an intense crush on someone. Mostly because people at school were just dicks and Connor had more self-respect than to have a crush on someone who was just a massive asshole to him. (He’d always thought Evan Hansen was cute and he’d been nicer to him than most people, but he was always hanging around Jared Kleinman, who was such an asshole to Connor that he’d basically forbid himself from developing a weird crush on anyone who willingly puts up with that dick. Anyway, Evan was obviously straight and into Zoe, so it’s not like it matters.)

 

Connor doesn’t really know if what he felt - and still feels - for Jerome was - or is - love, but the fact that it hurts to think about him and that he misses him makes it him think it might be. Or at least, something like it. 

 

It’s his fault Jerome is dead. 

 

Most of what he’s feeling is guilt. 

 

On Monday morning, he gets a text from Pippa, saying she’ll pick him up on the way to school. He’s too exhausted to argue, so he gets ready and meets Pippa downstairs. 

 

It’s weird seeing the replacement doorman. 

 

He misses Seamus. 

 

He gets into Pippa’s car, and Pippa smiles at him, then hands him a coffee. Connor kind of stares at it blankly, then thanks her and drinks it. 

 

“I thought we could hang out after school today,” says Pippa, her tone cheerful. 

 

“Sure,” Connor finds himself agreeing. It’s better than being alone. 

 

“Your place?”

 

Connor just looks at her. He’s not sure if she’s implying that she wants to have sex with him, and there’s no smooth way for him to ask that. 

 

“Uh, okay,” he says feebly. “I’ve got homework to do, so as long as we can focus on that…”

 

“Sounds good to me,” she replies with a nod. She’s got her hair in a braid today. It’s kind of simple, and different to her usual thing where it’s all controlled waves and kind of… like she’s going to some awards party or something. Connor thinks it looks nice. 

 

Zoe used to wear her hair in braids a lot when she was a kid. He remembers learning how to braid her hair when he was about six, following his mom’s instructions and being super gentle and super patient because Zoe would cry if he pulled too tight and he hated it when Zoe cried. 

 

When he got out of rehab over the summer, Zoe weirdly asked him, out of the blue, if he wanted her to braid his hair, and he threw his phone at her. She dodged it, but it nearly hit her in the face. 

 

She didn’t ask again. 

 

Connor’s not even sure that wasn’t the last time they actually spoke without anyone else in the room. 

 

He’s such a fucking asshole.

 

“You okay?” Pippa asks hesitantly. “I know you and Jerome were… friends.”

 

“Yeah,” Connor says quietly. “Yeah, we were.”

 

The rest of the day goes by almost too quickly, and Connor lets himself get lost in note-taking, homework, assignments and lab reports and pointedly tries not to engage in conversation with people. He’s got a free period just after lunch and he goes to the library to get some work done. 

 

Someone slides into the seat across from him and smiles a little awkwardly. It takes a moment for Connor to place him. 

 

Peter. 

 

The redheaded kid in his history class. 

 

The one that Guy fucked while he was pretending to be Ben. 

 

Connor inwardly winces. Is this guy going to bring up the fact that he thinks they’d had sex? He really hopes not. They barely know each other. Connor’s not equipped to deal with this. 

 

“Hey Ben,” he says quietly. “How are you holding up?”

 

Connor blinks. “I’m okay,” he says hesitantly. “How are you?”

 

Peter sighs a little. “Look, I saw you and Jerome together in the parking lot one time and… I just wanted to check you were doing okay. Obviously, I don’t know what your relationship was, and there’s the whole thing with Pippa and with, uh, Janelle and… me… but I wanted to just…” He sighs. “Forget it, it’s stupid.”

 

“It’s not stupid,” Connor says immediately. “Jerome was… he was important to me. I, uh… I’m…” He suddenly feels tears stinging at the back of his eyeballs, and it’s so incredibly frustrating, because hasn’t he cried enough in the last two weeks? Hasn’t it been enough?

 

Jerome hadn’t even had a funeral. 

 

His parents hadn’t should up to ID the body. There’d been a memorial at the school last week, and it had been short and sweet and utterly, utterly impersonal. 

 

Jerome deserved better.

 

Jerome deserved so, so, so much better. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter says in a rush as it becomes obvious that Connor’s crying quietly. “I didn’t… shit, I’m sorry, I…”

 

“Not your fault,” Connor manages to choke out, wiping his face with his sleeve. “It’s just… fuck, it’s… this kind of sucks, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter says sympathetically. He pulls a packet of Kleenex from his bag and hands it to Connor, who takes one gratefully. “I didn’t know Jerome very well. There were rumors he was… into some dodgy stuff, selling drugs and things, but he was always nice? And he was so smart, and he was…” Peter blushes a little. “He was cute.”

 

“He was,” Connor agrees, smiling a little. He sighs. “Hey Peter, I, uh… I just wanted to apologize. I know we… uh… I just… I was kind of high that entire weekend and I don’t really remember much? So if I was… if I was an asshole or did anything that made you uncomfortable or-”

 

“It’s okay,” Peter says in a rush. “You didn’t… I didn’t do anything I didn’t want, I promise. I just… I freaked out because I’d never… and I’d never told anyone and I didn’t know if you were just…”

 

“No, I’m…” Connor tries to think what would make sense for Ben. “I’m bi, I guess? I… I do like guys, I’m not just… experimenting or whatever, and if you’re… fuck, if you’re… I don’t know, if you like guys as well and need someone to talk to about it, I’m around? I wouldn’t tell anyone. I really wouldn’t.”

 

“Thank you,” says Peter, his expression sincere. “And if you want to talk about… Jerome, or anything else, I’m around as well. I know we don’t really know each other that well, but…” he kind of smiles a little shyly. Connor finds himself thinking that Peter’s shy smile is kind of cute, and then immediately feels guilty because… well, that’s the last thing he needs to be thinking right now. “It’s kind of nice to know I’m not alone?”

 

“I get that,” Connor says, nodding in agreement. “I… it’s a bit complicated, but… yeah, it’s nice to know I’m not alone.”

 

“I’m sorry about Jerome,” Peter says, his eyes sympathetic. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

 

Connor thinks idly that Peter has no fucking idea how true that statement is. 

 

When school finally finishes, Connor finds Pippa waiting by his locker. She smiles, takes his hand and they head to the parking lot. 

 

Holding Pippa’s hand is weird. He’s reminded of holding Gus’s hand while he got his haircut, and how while Pippa’s hand is smooth, Gus’s hands are rough and chapped and red and blistered. 

 

He really hopes Gus is going to be okay. 

 

He’s heard him screaming in the night and he can’t get the image of him slicing up his back out of his head and… 

 

Connor takes in a ragged breath and Pippa squeezes his hand. “Hey,” she says quietly. “You okay?”

 

“Let’s just go,” he says, letting go of her hand. She frowns, but nods, and they go to her car and drive to Ben’s apartment. Connor unlocks the door, and Pippa follows him in and kind of looks around, her smile a little wistful.

 

“I’ve always liked that you keep this place tidy,” she says conversationally. “If my brothers were left unsupervised, the house would be a total dump, but this place is always tidy.”

 

Connor doesn’t really know what to say to that. He thinks back to when Guy was staying and how annoying it was to have the place a mess, and…

 

Yeah, maybe he does actually care about things being tidy more than he realizes. 

 

“Well, it’s just me, so…” He trails off and sits on the sofa. Pippa sits down next to him, cross-legged at a right angle, and kind of looks at him for a long moment. “What’s up?” he asks tiredly.

 

“You loved him.”

 

Connor blinks. “What?”

 

“Jerome,” Pippa says. Her tone is even, almost wistful. “You loved him.”

 

Connor sighs and rubs his face. “We were friends,” he says, because he’s tired and he doesn’t feel like lying today. 

 

Everything he ever says to this girl is a lie and it’s exhausting. 

 

“You loved him,” she repeats, putting her hand on Connor’s knee. “And you don’t love me. At least, not anymore.”

 

Connor feels like the air is heavy around him. Like something important is happening. He’s preparing himself for her to have some kind of meltdown, some kind of screaming match, something sharp and violent and dramatic and harsh but…

 

It doesn’t come. 

 

“I did love him,” Connor admits, and as he says it, he realizes that it’s true. He’s been asking himself for the last two weeks the question, and now he’s got the answer. He looks at Pippa, with her braid and a floaty blouse and jeans combo that reminds him so much of his sister, and he thinks about Ben dying on a park bench in his hometown, and he thinks about how Ben’s phone password is the date that he and Pippa started dating. He thinks that means something. “But I did love you.”

 

“You did,” Pippa agrees, her eyes sad. “And I did, too, but…” She sighs and takes his hand. “Let’s face it, it hasn’t been working for a while now, has it? It’s hot and cold and weird and unpredictable and… you’ve been trying, I appreciate it, but I know your heart’s not in it and I should have said something earlier, I know, but I kind of wanted to… hold on?”

 

“Yeah,” says Connor, because what else is there to say? 

 

He’s never broken up with anyone before. Or been broken up with. He doesn’t know the script. He doesn’t know how this goes. 

 

He can’t tell what he’s supposed to be feeling. 

 

A part of him is… disappointed, he guesses, because it just feels like one more way he’s failed Ben. 

 

“You’re still important to me,” Pippa says gently. “And you’re… you just lost someone important to you, and I hate that, but I think we need to be realistic about… what we are to each other.”

 

“Okay,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m sorry.”

 

“So am I,” she says. “I’m sorry for pushing you into doing stuff you didn’t want and being so focused on appearances and how it looked. I just…” She sighs. “It’s complicated, and if I try to explain you’re going to think I’m a crazy person.”

 

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Connor replies. And he means it. 

 

Pippa isn’t someone he understands. Not really. But he doesn’t think she’s crazy. 

 

He kind of thinks it’s bullshit when people throw that word around. 

 

Fuck knows he’s had his fair share of it, back when he was only ever Connor Murphy. 

 

Before all of this. 

 

He wonders what Pippa would have done if she’d found out Ben was dead. If Ben had killed himself in New York, and Connor had killed himself at home, and none of this had ever happened. Would Pippa mourn Ben more? Or was the writing on the wall the minute Ben found out that Pippa was with DYAD?

 

Connor wonders what will happen to the experiment now. 

 

Pippa takes a deep breath. “I… if you want, we could still be together at school,” she says hesitantly. “Not, like, all over each other, or what it is now, but we could still be… officially together. Just so there aren’t, like, rumors about you so close to Jerome’s death. And we could… hang out? I just… you don’t really hang out with people anymore, Ben, and I don’t like the idea of you alone all the time. Especially now that Jerome’s gone.”

 

Connor’s not sure what to say. 

 

On one hand, if they’re still together at school and spending time together, she can still monitor him. She can still provide information about him to DYAD. It’s still lies and deception and bullshit experiments and… 

 

On the other hand, Connor doesn’t like the idea of being alone, either. 

 

And he thinks he likes Pippa better like this. When she’s honest and soft and not trying to attack him with her face. When she’s got her hair in a braid and reminds him of his little sister and her star-cuffed jeans. 

 

“I’d like that,” Connor says finally. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :) 
> 
> Just FYI: the THEN/NOW format of this fic is about to shake up a bit, as things in the NOW are starting to take priority. Rather than strictly alternating, there'll be more NOW chapters than THEN from here on in, so be sure to keep an eye on the chapter title, which will always tell you where we are. Hope it's not too confusing!


	60. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone Club’s Epic 21st Getaway, Part 2.

Two things become very apparent as soon as Donna gets the karaoke machine up and running. 

 

One is that every time Lucas waxed poetic about Donna’s singing voice, he wasn’t fucking kidding. The girl has pipes, and Connor’s here for it. 

 

The second is that Gus couldn’t hold a tune if it came in a box of donuts, but he more than makes up for it with enthusiasm. Connor can see Evan trying not to cringe as Gus warbles his way through Wannabe by the Spice Girls, then trying not to laugh as Gus says, very seriously once the song is finished, that he doesn’t know what the zig-a-zag-uh is. 

 

They’re working their way through the donuts and sangria at an alarming rate, and Torpedo seems to be getting drunk faster than everyone, which is freaking Connor out a bit, but this isn’t the time to bring it up. Torpedo eventually gets dragged to a microphone and manages to slur out a passable rendition of Closing Time by Semisonic, gesturing for everyone to join in on the chorus. 

 

It’s cheesy, but as they’re all loudly singing ‘I know who I want to take me home’, Connor thinks to himself that he doesn’t need to be taken anywhere. 

 

This moment, right now with Evan and Gus and his other clones and Donna… this might be home.

 

Evan smiles at him, and Connor slings his arm around him and kisses his head, and Torpedo rolls his eyes. “Gross,” he says into the microphone decisively, then hands it over to Donna, who beckons Connor over. Connor just shakes his head. 

 

“Nope,” Connor says firmly. “Not happening. Not unless Lucas does it, too.”

 

“A duet!” Donna says with a grin. “Perfect.”

 

Lucas and Connor both shake their heads, but Evan pushes Connor to his feet and Donna pulls Lucas to his and the two of them just kind of stand there and look at each other. There’s an unspoken comradery over the fact that they’ve both been forced into singing karaoke by the only people in the world capable of making them do something like this. 

 

Then they launch into a mildly enthusiastic version of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough because Donna hasn’t even let them pick the song. 

 

Gus just keeps grinning at Connor and giving him the thumbs up as he sings, and Lucas is just looking at the floor, and it’s all bizarre and surreal and fueled by the truly ridiculous amount of sangria they’ve consumed. By now it’s dusk, and there’s a soft pink light coming through the window, and it catches Evan’s hair and Connor catches his breath, because…

 

He really loves him. He really fucking loves him. 

 

Evan looks at him and smiles, and Connor smiles, and forgets what he’s doing, because it’s so easy to get lost in that smile, and they’re grinning at each other like idiots as the song ends and Donna takes the microphone off him. 

 

“Gross,” Torpedo yells again, rolling his eyes at Evan and Connor. 

 

Evan laughs, then stands up, wobbles a little and takes the microphone off Donna, then gestures for Connor to sit. 

 

“You think  _ that’s _ gross,” Evan says, slurring his words just a little and messing around with the machine. He points to a song and Donna grins. “I’m going to make you all sit through a love song and it’s going to be super awkward and weird, so please, keep drinking.”

 

Then he looks at Connor and starts singing Can’t Help Falling In Love and Connor can’t keep his eyes off him and it’s just… 

 

It’s just everything. 

 

When he’s finished, Evan hands the microphone back to Donna and practically jumps on Connor, kissing him fiercely, and the room erupts into applause and catcalls and the distinct sound of fake vomiting noises from Torpedo’s direction. 

 

Then all of a sudden, real vomiting noises. Reed helps Torpedo to the room he’s staying in and gets him a bucket, and Gus goes to find some towels to clean up the vomit, and there’s an unspoken decision that even though it’s early, they’re all drunk off their asses and should try to get some sleep. 

 

Connor checks in on Reed and Torpedo, who are sharing a room, and Reed assures Connor they’ll keep an eye on him. Their expression is a little wary, and Torpedo’s muttering something under his breath, and Connor is… 

 

Not convinced it’s just the flu. Or too much alcohol. 

 

When he gets back to the room he’s sharing with Evan, Evan is already shirtless and pulls Connor onto the bed the minute he closes the door. Evan’s kind of giggling as Connor peppers his neck with kisses and it warms Connor’s heart, because it’s light and free and young and full of life and there’s been too much darkness and terror in his life over the past few months. 

 

They deserve this, Connor thinks. They deserve to get lost in each other, to laugh and to kiss and to bask in each others’ warmth and just… be together and be happy. 

 

Connor thinks that Evan deserves everything. 

 

* * *

 

When Evan wakes up the next morning, it’s to an empty bed, but there’s a bottle of water and painkillers on the bedside table. He takes them gratefully, then throws on some pajama pants and a shirt and heads downstairs to the kitchen in search of Connor. 

 

He finds him standing in the kitchen, making a plunger of coffee, facing away from him. Evan walks over and wraps his arms around his waist. Connor kind of jolts for a bit, then turns around and hugs him properly. Evan’s just about to lean up for a kiss when he hears laughter from behind him. 

 

Familiar laughter. 

 

“Gus, could you please let go of my boyfriend?”

 

Evan pulls back and feels his face go bright red. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he says in a rush, backing away. “I’m so sorry Gus, I thought you were Connor.”

 

Gus chuckles. “I thought you just wanted hug. Is strange, but I like hugs.”

 

Evan doesn’t think he’s ever been more embarrassed in his life and kind of tries to melt into the counter. Connor seems to find it hilarious, though. He walks over to where Evan is standing and kisses him fiercely, holding his face in his hands. “I’m not sharing you,” says Connor gently, then pulls him in for another kiss before Evan can say anything in response. 

 

“You would both like the coffee, yes?” asks Gus as they break apart. There’s a smile in his voice, but Evan’s still too embarrassed to look him in the eye. 

 

“Sounds great, Gus,” says Connor, his tone affectionate. “I bought cream, it’s just on the counter.”

 

“You went and got groceries?” Evan says, trying to draw attention away from the fact that he’s just completely humiliated himself in front of his boyfriend and his twin. 

 

“Yeah, there were a couple of things Lucas, Reed and Donna forgot,” Connor says breezily. “Like cream and sugar for coffee.”

 

“I know Reed drinks theirs black,” Evan comments, going to the bench and putting cream in the mugs Gus has poured for them, then putting sugar in Connor’s. 

 

“Forgive me for not wanting to just mainline bitter bean juice without any additions,” says Connor with a roll of his eyes, taking the mug Evan’s offering him. “Do you need the cream, Gus?”

 

“I would like the cream,” says Gus, “and also the sugar if this is okay.” Evan hands both over to Gus, who is beaming at him. Gus pats him on the shoulder. “You give good hugs, Evan. Soft and strong like Pampushka.”

 

“Please, continue comparing my boyfriend to your dog,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “That’s not weird at all.”

 

“Maybe is weird,” Gus says with a grin, “but you are knowing how much I like my dog. It’s a compliment.” Gus winks at Evan and Evan tries not to blush again. 

 

He’s so fucking embarrassed. 

 

“Stop hitting on my boyfriend, Gus,” Connor says mildly, taking a sip of his coffee. Then he grins at his twin. “So. Any news about Handsome Fruit Man?”

 

It’s Gus’s turn to go bright pink. Evan looks at Connor quizzically. “Handsome Fruit Man?”

 

“Gus has a crush on the guy at the farmer’s market,” Connor says with a smirk. 

 

“He has apples and oranges and also the… pomegranates.” Gus fumbles slightly over the last word and is still blushing. 

 

“And Gus’s heart,” Connor adds dramatically.

 

“I do not think he will like me,” Gus says, looking at his shoes. “He is very handsome.”

 

“So are you,” Evan finds himself saying. “I mean, you and Connor are identical and I think Connor’s handsome, so… obviously, I think you’re handsome, too.”

 

Connor snorts. “Stop hitting on my brother, Evan.”

 

“I’m not - oh my god, Connor, you know I-”

 

“He is teasing,” Gus says, his tone fond. “He knows that you are his. And he is yours.” Gus’s smile turns wistful. “Maybe one day, I will talk to Handsome Fruit Man. We will go hiking with Pampushka and watch the sun setting. It’s very nice to see this.”

 

“I absolutely think you should talk to Handsome Fruit Man,” Connor says with a vigorous nod. “In fact, I want you to promise me that when you get home, you’ll talk to Handsome Fruit Man the next time you’re at the market.”

 

“It is not so easy,” Gus says, clearly a little uncomfortable. “It is hard. I understand that my life is much different to other people, and it is hard to know what I say and what I do not say.”

 

“Just ask if he wants a cup of coffee,” Evan suggests. “Bring Pampushka. She’ll be a great icebreaker.”

 

Gus frowns. “What is icebreaker? Is it that I shovel the snow?”

 

“An icebreaker is something you can say or bring to make a conversation easier to start,” Connor explains. From his tone, Evan can kind of tell that this is something Connor’s used to - helping Gus makes sense of the English language. He’s not really surprised by this, considering how seriously Connor takes his studies. “You know how sometimes when you first start talking to someone and it feels kind of awkward and strange? Like it’s frozen and it’s hard to get into the conversation? An icebreaker is something that helps break the ice and make it easier to talk.”

 

“It’s metaphor,” Gus says with an understanding nod. “This makes sense. It’s good word, I like it. I like the metaphors.” He looks at his twin, expression solemn. “Thank you for patient explanation, Connor.”

 

Connor smiles fondly, then reaches over and wraps his arm around Gus. “It’s good to see you,” he says, pulling him in for a hug. “You’re having fun?”

 

“Much fun,” Gus replies enthusiastically. He looks over at Evan. “You can have hug too, Evan. Any time.”

 

Connor cracks up and pulls Evan toward them, and Evan finds himself in an awkward but endearing hug with the twins. 

 

It’s funny, Evan finds himself thinking, because it’s not like he hasn’t met one of Connor’s genetic identicals before. He knows so many of them now. He’d consider Reed one of his best friends, and they’re completely different from Connor. So’s Torpedo, and so’s Lucas, and so is Dominic the DYAD-bred clone and so was Yorick. They’re all so different, even though they look the same, and he’d never mistake any of them for Connor. 

 

But Gus… Gus is different. He feels different. He gives off an energy that’s similar to Connor’s - it’s sad, but strong, and hopeful, but forgiving. Once they start talking, it’s obvious who is who, and Evan doesn’t think he’d have made the same mistake if he hadn’t been hungover and half asleep. Gus is Gus and Connor is Connor, but Evan can’t help but see the similarities between them, stronger than with any of the other clones. 

 

It makes sense that they’re twins. 

 

Gus goes to get Pampushka, who he’s let outside to do her business, and Connor pulls Evan in for another kiss. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks gently. “Not too hungover this morning?”

 

“I’m fine,” Evan assures him. “This is… it’s nice, being here. Meeting Gus.” He smiles. “It’s… it’s nice, meeting him and seeing just how important he is to you. I can tell you guys are close, and… it must have been hard to have spent so much time apart with you in New York and him… wherever he is.”

 

Connor winces. “Yeah, I…” he sighs and kisses Evan’s forehead. “If it were just you, I’d tell you everything. The whole sordid story, everything that’s… all of it. But the less you know, the safer Gus is and… he deserves to be safe.”

 

“I get it,” Evan says. “I really do. And I’m glad I get to meet him now.”

 

“I wanted you to meet him for him,” Connor says firmly. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. You saw last night how Lucas and Reed and Torpedo are still… uneasy. I just… I wanted you to meet him and see him for who is now, without having to deal with the preconceptions of who he was then, you know? That’s why I kept it from you.”

 

“Yeah,” says Evan, and he’s not lying when he says he understands. 

 

Plus, what right does he have to be upset about Connor keeping Gus from him when there’s so much he can’t tell Connor?

 

He wants to tell him everything. 

 

So badly. 

 

So much it almost hurts. 

 

It’s right of the tip of his tongue, here in this lake house in the middle of nowhere, safe and secure and away from all the horrors of DYAD and this tangled web he’s gotten himself tied up in, and Evan has to pull Connor into a kiss to stop himself from telling him all the things he just can’t know. 

 

“Food is prepared in this room,” Reed says irritably as they enter the kitchen, clearly hungover. “Take it somewhere else, horndogs.”

 

Connor laughs and drags him upstairs. 

 

Evan follows willingly.

 

* * *

 

Evan’s dozing next to Connor in the bed, and Connor absently strokes his boyfriend’s hair, trying to capture the moment in his mind so he can bring it back when things go wrong. Which they inevitably will. Evan’s playing a dangerous game, Lucas is already sick and Torpedo… 

 

Connor blinks and tries to stop himself from thinking about it.

 

This is supposed to be a vacation.

 

There’s a knock on the door, and he can hear Reed yelling something about getting decent and having breakfast. Connor gently shakes Evan awake, and Evan rewards him with a sleepy smile before kissing him and getting up to get changed. They’re at the top of the stairs and Donna appears at the bottom. “Connor, Reed asked if you can check on Torpedo? Tell him breakfast is ready.” She grins. “Gus helped me make pancakes.”

 

“You can head down if you want,” Connor says to Evan. “I’ll check on Torpedo.”

 

Evan heads downstairs and Connor knocks on the door of the room Torpedo and Reed are sleeping in, then lets himself in, to find Torpedo still fast asleep. 

 

“Hey,” Connor says gently. “Dude. Breakfast.”

 

He enters the room. The curtains are shut but there’s enough light for Connor to make his way to the bed. He goes to shake Torpedo awake but stops when he sees something on the bedside table that makes his heart stop. 

 

He sits on the edge of the bed and shakes Torpedo awake strongly.

 

“Whoa,” Torpedo says blearily. “Dude. Way harsh.”

 

“Harsh?” Connor says incredulously. “What’s harsh is that you’re taking fucking fentanyl. That shit’s strong, dude. And the only reason I can think of for you to be taking it is that you’re sick.”

 

Torpedo sits up and blinks at Connor, then fumbles for his glasses and puts them on. He’s pale. He’s so fucking pale and Connor is a _fucking idiot_ for ever having entertained the idea that it’s just the flu. 

 

“Well?” Connor demands. “How long?”

 

Torpedo winces. “Connor…”

 

“How. Long.”

 

“Nearly a year,” Torpedo admits quietly.

 

Connor wants to be sick. A year. A fucking year. A whole year his clone - his _brother_ \- has been sick and he didn’t know. He didn’t know, he didn’t see, he…

 

“I spent a lot of time hiding it from you,” Torpedo says, as if he can read Connor’s thoughts. “Don’t… not your fault you didn’t know.”

 

“This isn’t fucking okay,” Connor snaps. “A year? And you’re on shit as strong as fentanyl to just get through the day? So not only are you sick, but you’re taking addictive painkillers and…” He has to stop and control his breathing because he’s afraid he’s going to have a panic attack. 

 

“What’s going on?” comes a voice from the doorway. It’s Evan, who looks very concerned. He switches on the light, and Torpedo closes his eyes tight.

 

“Turn that off,” Connor snaps, then sighs. “Sorry, I don’t mean to yell-”

 

“It’s fine,” says Evan, turning off the light and coming over to where they are, his tone businesslike. He looks directly at Torpedo, then follows Connor’s gaze to the fentanyl, and goes almost as pale as the sick clone. “How long?”

 

“Nearly a year,” Connor says tiredly. “He’s been keeping this from us for nearly a year.”

 

Evan’s eyes widen. “That’s… Torpedo, that’s longer than anyone else has survived this. You… you need to come into DYAD, we need to-”

 

“No fucking way,” Torpedo snaps. “No way. Not after what DYAD’s done. They’ve killed others, you know. They’re experimenting on Yorick, aren’t they.” Evan blinks and Torpedo fixes him with a challenging glare. “Aren’t they?”

 

“You might not have much time,” Evan says, his voice ragged. “I know DYAD isn’t trustworthy. I know it isn’t. But I know people there who _are._ There are people who… there are people who _care,_ and we’re trying and I…”

 

“I’m working on it,” Torpedo says, his tone guarded. “I’ve been doing research on my own.”

 

“You’re a computer guy,” Connor says, feeling his heart start to race with pure panic. “You can’t… you can’t cure this. You don’t…”

 

“I’m trying,” Torpedo says suddenly. “I’m trying, and the fentanyl is keeping me from passing out from the pain, and I’m… I’m trying, okay? But I’m not going to DYAD.”

 

“You could die if you don’t get help,” Connor says frankly. 

 

“And I could die if I go to DYAD,” Torpedo counters. 

 

Evan won’t look at either of them. Connor takes a deep breath, and realizes with a heavy heart that he has no idea what to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	61. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone Club’s Epic 21st Getaway, Part 3.

Gus is making many pancakes for breakfast. He thinks maybe it is too many pancakes, but Donna insists that it is just enough. While he makes pancakes, Donna cuts up fruit and grills bacon. They are preparing a feast for everyone and it is nice to work with Donna in the kitchen. She is a very nice lady and Gus likes her red hair. 

 

“You and Lucas are together for how long?” he asks as he flips a pancake. It is the perfect light brown, like a golden retriever, and he is very pleased that it is round and fluffy. 

 

“Since freshman year in high school,” Donna says with a smile. At Gus’s look of confusion, she explains. “So that’s maybe… seven years?”

 

“And you are engaged to be married?” 

 

Donna’s smile grows even brighter. “Yes we are. I love him very much.”

 

Gus smiles back. “I am glad. I do not know Lucas well, but all clones are like brothers, and I would like them all to be happy and have good lives.”

 

This is a very true thing. Gus would like all clones to be happy and have good lives. He knows it is not always easy, to be happy. He is not always happy. When he thinks about the lives he has ended and the people he has hurt, it is overwhelming and he feels the sadness wash over him like waves in the ocean. Sometimes the waves are so strong he feels like he might drown from the sadness, and he is unhappily welcomed by the dark thoughts. 

 

The dark thoughts are the ones that say that he is unworthy and broken, that he is too far from the light of God to be saved, that he does not deserve to be happy and have soft things and a nice life with a dog and the best father and the best twin brother. He is still learning to tell the dark thoughts to go away. Connor says that it is a thing that must always be learned because dark thoughts are tricky and like to deceive. 

 

In the night time when the dark thoughts gain more power, Gus’s head is very loud. At those times, he thinks about the things in his life that are nice and soft and full of light. He thinks about Pampushka and her soft fur. She always knows when he is fighting the dark thoughts and is there to keep him warm and safe. He thinks about his dad, and how he is brave and strong and always there to keep Gus safe. He thinks about Connor and how he also fights the dark thoughts, and in his head, he hears Connor’s voice, saying: dark thoughts can fuck right off.

 

Donna goes to tell everyone that breakfast is ready, and Reed starts taking things to the dining room. They are wearing many colors today, and Gus likes it. Reed is still a little wary of Gus, but he is kind. Donna is also kind, and so is Evan. Lucas is… less kind, but not mean. Gus thinks that Lucas only sees a killer when he looks at him. (Sometimes when he looks in the mirror, that is all he can see, too, so he understands.) 

 

Torpedo… Gus does not know. Torpedo does not seem to be here in spirit. He seems far away, and while he is pleasant, there is something not quite right. Gus sees Connor look at Torpedo with concern and sad eyes, and it gives Gus concern, too. 

 

The dining room table has juices and pancakes and bacon and fruit and plates for eating and glasses for drinking. It is nice to have a table full of food. When there is a table full of food, Gus’s heart is full because he knows that his stomach will be full, also. It has been many years since he felt the emptiness in his stomach, but he can still remember what it feels like to be empty and lack strength, to feel the ache and the cold. 

 

There are many days when he is small that he does not eat. Days, sometimes weeks, with no food, or small amounts of food, and very little water. But this is not the case now. Dad always makes sure that he has food, and has always done so, ever since they were first together. Gus thinks that Seamus is the best dad in the whole world because he is kind and strong and helped Gus even when it was not easy. 

 

Soon the room is full of people, and Gus smiles when he sees Connor and Torpedo and Evan. His smile fades when he sees their faces and realizes that something is very wrong. 

 

“What has happened?” Gus asks, frowning at Connor. 

 

Torpedo takes a plate and fills it with food. Connor looks at Torpedo with sadness and frustration, then looks at Evan, then looks at Gus. “Torpedo’s sick,” he announces to the room. His voice is loud and everyone stops to listen. “And he’s been sick for nearly a year.”

 

“A year?” Reed says, putting down their plate quickly. They look at Torpedo, their face a mix of sorrow and frustration. “You’ve been keeping this secret for a year?”

 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Torpedo mumbles, sticking his fork into a piece of bacon. 

 

“If you’ve known for a year,” Lucas says, his voice scared but impatient, “then you’ve known for longer than we have. You… you should have said something.”

 

“And what?” Torpedo says, his voice sharp. “Let you deal with worrying for a year? Waiting for it to happen to you?”

 

“It’s better than you being alone,” says Connor, and Gus knows him well enough to know that he is trying very hard not to cry. He puts his arm on his twin’s shoulder and squeezes it a little. 

 

“It is not good to be alone, Torpedo,” Gus says, not sure what else to say. “What is to be done to make you well? Evan works for people who work to make the cure, yes?”

 

There’s silence. Evan looks at his feet. 

 

“I think we need to discuss what happens next,” Lucas says. He sounds very serious. “Reed, Torpedo, Connor and I.”

 

Evan looks at Connor. His face is sad, and confused, and a little hurt. Donna takes Lucas’s hand and squeezes it. 

 

Gus knows he is not fully welcome yet. 

 

He understands. The four have been together through much, and Gus has not been there. He has been learning to be safe, learning to be well, learning to be a person, not a tool. It has taken time, and he has been away from all the stress and the strange things. Connor has told him bits and pieces, but does not want to burden him, and Gus thinks that is okay. He wants to help, but he will be patient and he will wait for the time when they will need him. 

 

Gus knows that Evan is working hard to find the cure for the illness, but that it is complicated. Connor tells him at Christmas that is afraid of the organization that created them, afraid that Evan will get in too deep, afraid that Evan is putting himself in danger. Gus thinks he understands both sides. Connor wants to keep Evan safe. Evan wants to keep Connor safe. 

 

It is good, to want to keep each other safe, but it is sad, that to keep each other safe contains some hurt. 

 

“Donna and Evan,” Gus says, trying to make his voice sound positive. “We will take Pampushka for walk, yes? Maybe into town. After breakfast, the others will talk, and we will go on adventures with Pampushka. Maybe we can find cake.” He tries to smile in a way he hopes will make people feel more at ease. “After all, it is birthday. We must have cake for birthday, yes?”

 

“I think that’s a great idea,” says Connor. It looks like Evan is going to argue, but instead he pours some orange juice and sits down to eat. 

 

“Would you like apple slices?” Gus says, handing the bowl to Evan. “Apple slices in pancake is very nice. These apples, I buy from Handsome Fruit Man.”

 

Reed laughs a little. “Handsome Fruit Man?”

 

Gus feels that his ears are a little pink, which is normal when he thinks of Handsome Fruit Man, but the room feels more light, so he launches into a description of Handsome Fruit Man, his apples and oranges and pomegranates, and his dark skin and bright smile and how he always helps Gus pick the nicest fruits. Reed asks questions and everyone starts to eat and talk a little, and it is okay for a little while. 

 

* * *

 

Reed makes another plunger of coffee as Evan, Donna and Gus pile into Gus’s van with Pampushka and head into the city. Donna tells them quietly that she’ll make sure they give the group at least an hour to chat, and Reed’s grateful. 

 

Evan won’t meet anyone’s eye, and Reed can tell that Connor’s torn about this, but also feels like this is something the four of them need to discuss on their own. 

 

They’re grateful to Gus for understanding. 

 

The four of them sit in the living room with their coffee and Connor’s expression hardens. “I’m so fucking mad at you, Torpedo.”

 

“Me too,” Reed agrees. “Seriously. What the actual fuck?”

 

“I’m working on it,” Torpedo says with a sigh, holding his coffee cup like it’s got the answers to everything. “I’m sorry. I… if it helps, I didn’t like lying to you guys.”

 

“Oh, well, if you didn’t  _ like _ it,” Connor says, voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes a sip of his coffee, clearly pissed off. 

 

“Not cool,” Lucas says, gripping his coffee cup tight. “Not cool at all.” He sighs. “You said you were researching it? How?”

 

Torpedo’s eyes widen. He looks trapped. Reed sighs. “No more bullshit,” they say firmly. “Seriously. No more bullshit.”

 

Torpedo looks at the three of them. He looks so tired. Then his gaze fixes on Connor. “You can’t tell Evan this,” he says firmly. “If I tell you, you need to keep this from Evan.”

 

Connor blinks. Reed can see the conflict on his face. He blinks again. “Please don’t ask me to do that.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Torpedo says. He does look apologetic, but his voice is still firm. “I’m not budging on this. I’ll tell you everything but you cannot tell Evan, I can’t risk this getting to DYAD.”

 

Connor closes his eyes for a long moment. Then he opens them and looks straight at Torpedo. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I won’t tell him.”

 

“I’m in touch with other sick clones,” Torpedo says in a rush. “I have been since I got sick. I cross-referenced hospital admissions and DYAD files and I found a handful of others. Not all of them, obviously, but… I’ve been in touch with others.”

 

Reed’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. How many? Where are they? Are they okay?”

 

“There were five of us at the beginning,” says Torpedo, kind of deflating under everyone’s gaze. “All American. Jacob was the first one to pass away, that was near the beginning. He was in New Mexico. Heath was in Nevada and he died a couple of months back. There’s Tommy in Hawaii and Parker in California.” He sighs. “Parker’s not… he’s a bit further along, he’s not doing so well.”

 

“Shit,” says Lucas, his face ashen. 

 

“How are you feeling, Lucas?” Torpedo asks, his tone slightly frantic. “Are the headaches getting too much? I can get you painkillers if you need them, just let me know.”

 

“Not sure if I’m totally chill with starting Lucas on fentanyl straight up,” Reed says hesitantly. “Like, that’s hardcore, dude.” They look at Lucas. “You should start with regular over the counter shit, then maybe oxy if things get really bad, before you get stuck into fentanyl.”

 

Connor kind of starts. “I spent the summer before senior year in rehab because I got super into oxy,” he says bluntly. “That shit’s not fun to come down from. Be careful.” He looks at Torpedo. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

 

“I’m doing okay,” Lucas says. “Honestly, I am. Headaches aren’t super common. It might not even be the illness.”

 

“I don’t want to take that risk,” Reed says stubbornly. They look at Torpedo. “I know you don’t trust DYAD. I know you don’t. But we are trying, I swear to you. It’s fucked what’s happened to Yorick and it’s fucked the lengths they’re willing to go, and there’s all sorts of secretive shit and there’s so much they’re not telling me but… is there really any other alternative?”

 

Torpedo stares for a moment, then bites his lip. “Actually, yeah,” he admits. “Parker kind of… hooked up with a neurologist. She’s working on a cure for us.”

 

Connor just stares. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Just some random neurologist?”

 

“She kind of got… banned from practicing medicine,” Torpedo admits hesitantly. “So she’s got some time on her hands. But she’s working on it. I’m giving her all the information Evan gives me from DYAD.”

 

“You’re trusting a completely random woman over my boyfriend who’s working himself to the fucking bone to find a cure for us,” Connor says. It’s pretty obvious he’s about to explode. “You’re making me keep this from him and telling me there’s this random disgraced neurologist in California working on a cure and that you’re funneling all the information Evan is taking a huge risk in giving you to her. But you won’t trust Evan.” He puts his coffee cup down and stands up. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

 

“Heath wasn’t that sick when he went to DYAD,” Torpedo says, getting to his feet as well. “He wasn’t that sick, and he told us he was going to the DYAD for some testing, and a week later he was dead. There’s no way the illness should have spread that quickly. Not if I’m still alive after being sick for a year.”

 

“You’re gambling with your life!” Connor exclaims heatedly. “You’re gambling with your life, you’re making me lie to someone I love and you’re sick and your big plan for getting well is some complete stranger? And you’ve been lying to us for a whole fucking year? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

“Well, I’m dying,” Torpedo shoots back. “So there’s that.”

 

“This isn’t a fucking joke!”

 

“Do I look like I’m laughing, Connor?” Torpedo bites his lip. He suddenly looks very, very young. “I don’t want to die. I really, really, really don’t want to die.”

 

The room is deadly silent. Connor collapses back into his chair and holds his head in his hands for a long moment. Torpedo sits down gingerly and won’t look at anyone. 

 

Reed looks at Lucas, who just looks scared and lost. 

 

They sigh. “I want to talk to her,” Reed says finally. “This neurologist. Can you set up a meeting?”

 

Torpedo looks at Reed and frowns a little. “I guess. This can’t involve DYAD, though.”

 

“I respect that,” Reed says carefully. “It won’t. But I’m also working on stuff with DYAD, so… I can be a bridge between that information. Pass things on. It’s probably our safest option at this stage.”

 

“Evan can help,” Connor insists, finally looking up. His eyes are dangerously watery. “He’s on our side. I know it. We can trust him.”

 

“I don’t agree,” says Torpedo flatly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. Not after Yorick.”

 

“I’m with Torpedo,” Lucas says, his tone a little hesitant. “I think Evan’s great and I don’t think he’d do anything to hurt us intentionally, but… he’s in too deep.”

 

“Evan’s your friend,” Connor says to Reed, his expression almost desperate. “You’re with me on this, right? You know he’s… you know he can be trusted.”

 

“I don’t think it’s fair to put him in this position,” says Reed honestly. “He’s got so much on his plate already, he’s spread too thin. This could… it’s too much.”

 

“So we’re just going to go behind his back?” Connor demands. “After everything he’s done. After everything he’s still doing?”

 

“Three to one,” Lucas says, a little coldly. “Think about this rationally.”

 

“I don’t care about rationality right now,” Connor snaps. “I care about my boyfriend working himself to the bone to find a cure and then us going behind his back to find one ourselves.”

 

“And I care about not dying,” Torpedo says frankly. “I’m sorry. I really am, but… he wants there to be a cure, right? He’d understand. The cure is what’s important and DYAD can’t be trusted. It’s as simple as that.”

 

Connor bites his lip. “Please don’t make me do this,” he says again. “Please.”

 

“You can’t tell him,” Reed says sadly. “I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be fair on him. You know that, right? He doesn’t… he doesn’t need more.”

 

“This is going behind his back,” Connor says stubbornly. “If he knew someone else was working on the cure, he could relax.”

 

“He wouldn’t,” Reed replies. “We both know it wouldn’t make him relax. It’d make him work harder. Spread himself even more thin. This is the right move. It sucks, but it’s the right move.”

 

Connor’s tense, clenching his jaw and his fist, and for a moment Reed’s genuinely convinced he’s going to punch something. Then he deflates and folds in on himself, leaning back into his chair. “Okay,” he says, his voice small. “Okay.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :) I'm always keen to chat and talk and answer questions and all that fun stuff.


	62. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone Club’s Epic 21st Getaway, Part 4.

The town near the lake house is small and kind of quaint, and Gus seems keen to explore. He’s got Pampushka on a leash and keeps pointing out things to Evan and Donna as they walk, which Evan has to admit is kind of cute. 

 

He’s still having a hard time believing that this guy is a trained assassin. 

 

As if that’s the weirdest thing about Gus. 

 

Donna’s subdued as they walk, though she’s careful to smile at Gus as he darts into shops to look at weird knick-knacks and gives her Pampushka’s leash. Gus spots something in the window that Evan doesn’t quite catch, announces immediately that it’s perfect for his dad, then heads in. Evan kneels down and pets Pampushka, who licks his hand happily. 

 

“How are you holding up?” Donna asks suddenly. 

 

Evan looks up at her, a little taken aback. “Uh…”

 

“I know you’ve been working on the cure,” Donna says, quietly looking around to make sure no one’s in earshot. “Kind of feels like you should be part of that conversation back there.”

 

Evan doesn’t disagree, but he’s trying to be understanding about this. “The four of them are kind of… well, it’s been them for so long, and at the end of the day, they’re… you know… clone club.”

 

“Still,” Donna ventures, a little hesitant. “You’re full time at DYAD now, right?” Evan nods and she frowns. “You’re… you’re giving up a lot for them and… it doesn’t seem fair.”

 

“I don’t know if we can really understand,” Evan says, his voice equally hesitant, because he’s trying to tell himself this as much as he’s trying to tell Donna. “We’re not in their position, we’re on the outside looking in. So it’s…” Evan takes a breath and kind of frowns again. “Like, they have to deal with the fact that they’re… experiments. That’s got to be hard, I don’t know if I’d deal with it that well. And I don’t…” his voice hitches a bit, but he manages to continue. “I think they deserve to be able to make their own choices.”

 

“You’re being a lot more reasonable about this than I would be,” Donna says frankly. “I get that DYAD’s sketchy. Lucas freaked out when he found out I was monitoring him and I just thought I was doing a sociology study. Like, he completely freaked out and disappeared for like, a week.”

 

Evan nods. “Connor told me. He was at his place. Apparently, he stress cleaned and stress baked and watched a lot of reality TV.”

 

“He does that,” says Donna fondly. She pets Pampushka and kind of sighs. “It’s so weird, knowing that there’s this whole… well, it puts things in perspective, and it also kind of helps me understand why Lucas is so… paranoid about stuff.” She rolls her eyes. “It took a lot of convincing for him to let me come this weekend, but I wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Evan says, and he means it. It’s good to have someone else who’s… outside of all of this with him. 

 

Even though he’s not outside of this. 

 

Not at all. 

 

He’s in so deep that he can’t even imagine getting out, and they’re making decisions without him because they don’t trust him, and all he’s ever wanted to do was save them, and…

 

“Hey,” says Donna, noticing his breathing hitch. “Evan, you okay?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Evan murmurs and tries to get his breathing under control. He’s having a panic attack, in front of this woman he barely knows, outside an antique shop in a town he’s never been, and people are starting to watch, and he slides down on the ground against the front of the store and tries to make himself small. 

 

Pampushka nuzzles at his face with her nose and barks softly. 

 

He can’t breathe. 

 

He can’t fucking breathe. 

 

Everything’s swimming around him, and he’s trying to get air into his lungs, and all of a sudden there’s a hand on his, and it’s being placed on to something soft, and another hand on his shoulder, and a vaguely familiar voice telling him it’s okay, and he dimly realizes he’s crying. 

 

“You need to breathe,” says the voice calmly. “In and out, with me. You can do this, I know it. We do it together, yes? In and out.” 

 

He focuses on what the voice is saying. 

 

In and out. 

 

In and out. 

 

It takes a while, but soon the hammering of his heart slows down and his breathing evens out and he’s just… so tired. So incredibly tired. 

 

He opens his eyes and it’s Connor in front of him, his eyes soft and concerned. 

 

No, Evan realizes as he comes back to himself. It’s Gus. 

 

“You are alright,” says Gus gently. He rubs Evan’s shoulder a little, then extends a hand and helps him up. “I have this too sometimes,” he says quietly, putting an arm around Evan and helping him down the street. “Over there I see a store with milkshakes. I think is a very good idea right now, yes?”

 

“I’m down for a milkshake,” says Donna, who looks a little freaked out but sympathetic. “Evan, what do you think?”

 

“Sounds good,” Evan manages to say, his voice raspy. His throat kind of hurts. A milkshake might help. 

 

There’s a table outside the store, so they all sit outside, Pampushka settling by Evan’s feet. She seems to realize he’s still a little shaken and refuses to leave his side. Donna asks what everyone wants and goes inside to order, and Evan runs his hands through Pampushka’s soft fur. 

 

“Pampushka is a very good girl,” Gus says conversationally. He smiles. “When I am in the panic, she knows what to do.” He taps his forehead. “I have the dark thoughts sometimes. Many things. Many pains and memories. Sometimes is panic. Sometimes I see something, and I am back where I was and it is very scary. But Pampushka… she always knows.” He looks at Evan solemnly. “Will you be alright? How can I help?”

 

“You’ve helped,” Evan assures him, letting out a breath. He’s still kind of shaky. “Thank you, Gus.”

 

“It’s no problem.” Gus pats him on the shoulder. “You are good man. You will help make everyone well. I am sure of this.”

 

Donna comes back, smiles at Evan and takes a seat next to Gus. “So Gus,” she says conversationally. “You said something about cake. What’s say we do that next? Find a cake.”

 

“Very good!” Gus exclaims. “We will have milkshakes, then adventure in search of cake. What do you think, Pampushka? Is good?”

 

Pampushka barks in agreement and Evan can’t help but smile. 

 

* * *

 

Connor’s exhausted by the time Gus, Donna and Evan get back. Pampushka bounds up to him and Gus excitedly shows Connor a weird antique box thing he found in a store. “It’s for Dad,” he announces, and Connor can’t quite figure out what it is or what Seamus is going to do with is, but he smiles encouragingly anyway. 

 

“So you had a good time?” Connor asks. 

 

Gus nods, then frowns a little. “We can talk alone, yes?”

 

Connor nods, and follows Gus outside to the edge of the lake, Pampushka following them. “What’s up?” Connor asks, preparing himself for questions from his twin about Torpedo.

 

“Evan had panic,” Gus says frankly. “It is not easy for him, I think. I recognize this - the breathing is hard, his spirit goes far away. I help bring him back, and he is fine, but I have concern and think you should know this.”

 

Connor closes his eyes and tries not to let on that Gus’s words are like a punch to the gut. 

 

He knows Evan’s not coping.

 

He knows Evan’s hurt that they didn’t include him in the conversation

 

He knows that he’s working himself to the bone and that he’s exhausted and tired and giving up everything and…

 

“Connor?”

 

He opens his eyes and looks at Gus, who’s looking increasingly concerned. “Thanks for letting me know,” he says, not sure how else to respond. “It’s… it’s hard.”

 

“You said you are worried about Evan working too hard for the cure and that the people he is working for may be dangerous,” says Gus, as if he’s piecing it all together. “Torpedo thinks it is dangerous also, yes? And does not want to go to them. But you must find a way to make him well but also keep him safe. Is difficult.”

 

“You’re not wrong,” says Connor. It hits him, like it has many times before, that Gus is really fucking perceptive. 

 

Gus puts his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You do not have to tell me plan,” he says. “I know there are things I do not know, and this is okay. But also know that I am here to listen to your troubles. We are all clone brothers, but you and I are twins. Is different. Is more. I am here.” He looks a little sad. “There are things you cannot say to Evan, yes? Things he must not know?”

 

Connor just stares at him for a long moment, then nods. He’s afraid if he says anything, he’s going to start crying. Something in Gus’s expression shifts, then all of a sudden Connor’s being pulled into a hug and starts sobbing on his twin’s shoulder. Gus rubs his back and says something Connor doesn’t understand. He thinks he might have slipped into his native language, and it’s a nice sound. It’s comforting. 

 

He wonders for a moment if they would have been this close if they’d grown up together. If their connection is based on the fact that they’ve both had trauma in their lives, they’ve both had their battles and have worked, both together and apart, to get to a space where they’re okay. 

 

Connor’s so fucking proud of Gus. 

 

“There are things I can’t tell him,” Connor admits into Gus’s shoulder. “And it’s hard, because… I want to, I really want to. And I’m sure there are things he can’t tell me, too. Sometimes he looks at me and I can tell there’s something he’s hiding and I want to say something but I can’t, because this isn’t just… the secrets we have to keep from each other aren’t the kind of secrets  _ normal _ couples have. It’s not normal. None of it’s normal, and I want it to be normal so badly.”

 

He pulls away slightly and Gus keeps his hands firmly on Connor’s shoulders. “I know this feeling,” Gus admits quietly. “It has taken me time to learn that what happened to me when I was small is not what happens to all. And I am jealous of people who have normal family and normal life, with school and playing and… not death. I would also like for it to be normal. But it cannot be, because what has happened has happened, and there is no changing past.” He smiles a little, and Connor can see he’s tearing up, too. “Sometimes I think there is only dark. Dark past, dark thoughts. But there is _always_ moment of light. A soft dog. A donut. When Dad makes funny joke.” He squeezes Connor’s shoulder. “And when I spent time with my twin brother. Is always light then. I think for you, Evan is light, and even if it is not normal… it is still good.”

 

“Yeah,” says Connor, not really knowing what else to say. “Sorry, I’m such a mess. And thank you for telling me about Evan.”

 

“You do not need to be sorry,” Gus says seriously. “You are allowed to feel the things you feel. It is hard. You must be strong so often. I worry for you sometimes, when we are apart. After Christmas, when you tell us of the illness and DYAD and possible danger for Evan and for you, I worry. I would like to do more to help.” He sighs. “I think that maybe, is okay if we hide less now. Time has passed. I will not be swayed by false gods now. I would like to be a help.” Something kind of hardens in Gus’s face and he looks Connor straight in the eye. “If there is danger and you need to be defended, I am there. When I am small I learn many things. If there is someone who tries to hurt you, I will hurt them more.” 

 

Something cold grabs Connor’s stomach from the inside. “I would never ask you to do that,” he says firmly.

 

Gus’s expression doesn’t shift. “You would not need to ask.”

 

* * *

  
  
Torpedo feels like all the fight has drained out of him. He parks himself on the sofa in the living room, plays stupid games on his laptop and just keeps to himself for a while. Everyone’s a little raw as the afternoon progresses. Reed and Evan play a somewhat lackluster game of Connect Four at the kitchen table. Lucas and Donna disappear to their room for some alone time. Connor and Gus come back from a walk to the lake with Pampushka, both red-faced and wind-swept. 

 

Now that Connor’s shaved off his beard, he and Gus really do look exactly alike. Even for clones, it's uncanny. 

 

Gus and Pampushka sit on the floor of the living room and Gus talks to the dog in what must be Ukrainian. Connor sits down next to Torpedo and Torpedo closes his laptop. Connor sighs. 

 

“Sorry I’m such an asshole,” he says quietly. 

 

Torpedo snorts. “As long as you’re true to yourself.”

 

They’re at opposite sides of the sofa, cross-legged and facing each other. Connor rolls his eyes, then kind of kicks Torpedo a little. 

 

“I’m just scared,” Connor confesses. “I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you, Torpedo.”

 

“I’m not planning on going anywhere,” Torpedo promises. “I will  _ absolutely _ rage against the coming of the light or whatever.”

 

“He will not go gentle,” Gus chimes in from the floor. “Is good. Torpedo is strong.”

 

Torpedo can’t help but smile at that. “Thanks, Gus.”

 

“Is no problem.”

 

Connor clears his throat. “Do you think that… do think the cure will happen? And in time?”

 

“Honestly?” Torpedo answers, feeling his stomach clench. “I have no idea. I don’t… it’s not something I have much control over. I do what I can but it’s… it’s really hard, knowing that my fate’s in someone else’s hands.”

 

“I wish I could just fix it,” Connor admits, his voice raw. “I wish I could just… I don’t know, do something and make it right.”

 

“Hey,” Torpedo says gently. “Not your fault. Or your responsibility.” He sighs. “I hated lying to you, you know? I hated keeping this big thing from you. When I found out, you were the first person I wanted to tell, isn’t that stupid? But… I didn’t want you to have to worry about me. Or, like, freak out any time you got a headache, thinking that this could be it for you.” He sighs again. “I wanted to spare you that. You’ve got… you’ve been through enough.”

 

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Connor says flatly. “Not from shit like this. Me worrying is preferable to you dealing with this shit alone.” It’s Connor’s turn to sigh. “Although I guess you’re not alone. You’ve got your whole other clone club.” Connor kind of kicks him again. “Tell me about Parker and Tommy.”

 

Torpedo smiles. “Parker’s in California. He’s shaved his head now cos he’s been… pretty sick, but he had, like, dyed blonde hair and it was just… not a good look for us, oh my god.” Connor laughs a little. “He was studying architecture, but he’s dropped out. He’s just kind of… focusing on staying alive these days.”

 

Connor looks devastated at that, but he closes his eyes and shakes it off. “Okay, how about Tommy?”

 

“Oh, he’s a surfer.” At Connor’s raised eyebrows, Torpedo laughs. “I’m serious. He’s got long hair like you and Gus but he’s like, constantly sunburned. I feel like there’s only a certain degree to which we can tan.” 

 

“We’re all pasty fuckers, aren’t we,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. From the floor, Gus frowns and Connor kind of winces. “I’ll explain later, Gus.”

 

“He legit calls things gnarly and it’s hysterical,” Torpedo confesses. It’s weirdly cathartic, talking about these people he’s now known for a year with others. The last year has been hard, keeping them all separate. Maybe it’s time to bring it all together. “Come visit sometime and we’ll Skype, okay?”

 

“Sounds good,” Connor says with a small smile. 

 

Reed and Evan enter the room and Connor gets up and hugs Evan. Reed takes Connor’s place on the sofa and smiles at Torpedo warmly. “You doing okay?” they ask. 

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Need anything?”

 

“Brain transplant, maybe?”

 

Reed smiles a little sadly. “I was thinking more along the lines of, like, a cup of tea or some donuts.”

 

“Many donuts remain,” says Gus from where he’s lying on his back against his dog’s stomach. “They are in kitchen. I can get them if you want.”

 

Torpedo has next to no appetite but the look on Reed’s face is enough to make him want to at least try. “Actually, donuts sound great, Gus.”

 

Gus leaps to his feet and rushes out to get donuts. Donna and Lucas come down the stairs, a little disheveled, and Donna goes over to pet Pampushka. “I think it’s time for round 2 of karaoke,” she says with a grin. “Reed, you owe me a duet.”

 

“I never agreed to this.”

 

“Arguing with her is useless,” Lucas says dramatically, flinging himself over an armchair. “She always wins.”

 

Donna sticks out her tongue and starts setting up the karaoke machine. Then she picks up the microphone and dramatically gestures to Torpedo. “Torpedo, this one’s for you.”

 

As Donna launches into a show-stopping rendition of ‘I Will Survive’, Reed starts giggling. Gus returns with donuts, Evan and Connor curl up on the second sofa, Donna pulls Lucas into some kind of weird dance move and Torpedo’s heart feels a little lighter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	63. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone Club’s Epic 21st Getaway, Part 5.

Evan wakes up sometime in the middle of the night and realizes that Connor’s sitting up against the headboard, knees folded up against his chest. He fumbles for the lamp switch and sits up as well. Connor kind of looks at him, expression weary. 

 

“Go back to sleep,” says Connor, his voice a little raspy. It feels heavy and strange in the still of the night. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Evan asks, moving closer to Connor so he can put his arm around him. “Worried about Torpedo?”

 

Connor takes in a sharp breath, then rests his head on his knees for a moment. “It’s just really fucked up.”

 

“Yeah,” Evan replies, because there’s not much else to say. It is fucked up. 

 

It’s fucked up that this illness exists. It’s fucked up that DYAD are willing to lock up one of the subjects they say they want to cure and experiment on him for the greater good. 

 

It’s fucked up that Evan knows how much Connor and the others distrust DYAD, but he can’t tell them just how much he does as well. 

 

He can’t tell them about the ESM and their plans to bring the place down. 

 

He wants to. He’s nearly told Connor so many times already this weekend. He can justify telling Connor in his head almost entirely. The clones would be thrilled to know there are people out there who are working to take DYAD down, to strip away the corruption and the lies and the horrors and keep the science, the discovery, the stuff that makes humanity better. 

 

But then he thinks about Kylie’s words. About picking their battles. 

 

The ESM aren’t interested in getting Yorick out of DYAD. 

 

So really, are they any better in the long run?

 

The problem is, of course, that he has minimal involvement with the ESM. They’re secretive and mysterious and while he has a phone to contact people (he’s so fucking sick of having more than one phone), he never does and they never do except for rare occasions and… 

 

If he tells Connor and his siblings about the ESM, then he’s going to have to tell them everything he knows, and everything he knows is… not much. 

 

They’re already so suspicious. They don’t need another player in the game. 

 

“I’m so scared he’s going to die,” Connor says, lifting up his head wearily. “Torpedo and I… we’ve been through a lot together, you know? He basically fucking kept me alive through senior year. Things were… things were crazy, I was trying to be Ben and navigate through all of that and there was a lot going on and… Torpedo was the first clone I met apart from Ben. And he just… we hung out in his mom’s basement and played video games and smoked weed and it’s a place I’ve always felt safe, you know? Like, the rest of the world could be up in flames, but Torpedo’s basement would always be there, smelling like weed and socks, and there’d usually be chocolate chip cookies that his mom made, and…” Connor sniffs, and Evan kisses the side of his head. 

 

“I guess you guys have discussed things,” Evan says, trying to keep his tone light. “And I know you don’t trust DYAD. But I promise you, I am doing everything I can to find a cure. Everything.”

 

“Even slicing open another clone?” Connor asks tightly. 

 

The room goes even more still and from the look on Connor’s face, Evan can tell he regrets saying it.

 

But he’s not wrong. 

 

Evan closes his eyes as the memories wash over him. 

 

He didn’t have to be in the room, but he was forced to observe from behind the glass as another scientist sliced open Yorick’s skull. It was a scientist he didn’t recognize, who DYAD had rushed in because they’d practically drooled over the opportunity to examine a mostly healthy brain, still attached to its subject. 

 

Evan had thrown up for nearly an hour after seeing that. 

 

He wouldn’t go into the room. He couldn’t deal with Yorick seeing him, knowing that it was his fault he was there, knowing that he couldn’t get him out, knowing that… 

 

It’s too late for him. 

 

They’ll be monitoring his brain function and collecting data until he finally dies, and they’ll keep him alive as long as they can to get all the data they need. 

 

It’s horrific. 

 

It’s inhumane. 

 

It’s what DYAD are prepared to do. 

 

Evan wishes he could say he wants no part of it and leave. He thinks that he would if it weren’t for the fact the data they’re getting from Yorick’s brain could save the other clones. 

 

Could save _Connor._

 

He’s terrified at himself as he realizes the lengths he’s willing to go to for Connor. 

 

He doesn’t recognize himself anymore. 

 

It takes him a moment to realize he’s struggling to breathe. 

 

“Hey,” Connor’s voice says, sharp and a little terrified. “Hey, Evan, hey. Come back to me. Just breathe, it’s… shit, it’s okay, I’m here, it’s okay…”

 

There are arms around him and words of comfort murmured into his ear and he manages to control his breathing but can’t quite stop from bursting into tears. “I’m okay,” he says desperately. “I’m fine, it’s just… a lot.”

 

Connor looks shaken as they pull apart. “Gus said you had a panic attack yesterday,” he says, frowning more than a little. “You… stuff at DYAD, it’s… it’s not good, is it?”

 

Evan just shakes his head. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to know. You’re better off not knowing.”

 

Connor bites his lip. “You’re in too deep.”

 

“I know that.”

 

Connor’s quiet for a long moment, then takes Evan’s hand and kisses it gently. “Run away with me.”

 

Evan blinks. “What?”

 

Connor looks at him intently. “I’m serious. Run away with me. I’m 21 now, I’ve got Ben’s trust fund and it’s… fucking ridiculous, honestly. I can transfer it somewhere safe and we can just… leave. Go stay with Gus and Seamus for a while, then decide what we want to do from there. They’ve been hiding from DYAD and the Proletheans for years, they can help us escape. We can just go. Away from DYAD, away from all this shit, and we can just go be normal.” 

 

It’s tempting. It’s so fucking tempting. But…

 

“It’d be nice,” Evan says wistfully. “For a while. But you’d get sick eventually. It’s inevitable. You’d get sick and I’d have to watch you die and I’m not strong enough to do that.”

 

“What if you can’t find the cure even with everything you’re doing with DYAD?” Connor asks gently. “You might… you might have to watch me die anyway. At least if we disappeared, we’d get some time together where we could just… be.”

 

“I thought you believed I could find the cure,” says Evan, a little stung. 

 

“Of course I do,” Connor says passionately, and Evan honestly can’t tell if he’s lying. “But is it worth it if you’re…” He trails off, then leans in and kisses Evan firmly. Evan leans into the kiss and realizes dimly his face is wet, but he doesn’t think he’s the one crying anymore. “I feel like I’m losing you,” Connor says quietly as he pulls away, idly wiping his face. “Every day that passes, I feel like you’re further and further away.”

 

“You’re not losing me,” Evan promises. “I’m doing this all for you.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re pulling away from me,” he says, clearly trying to explain. “I feel like… you’re losing yourself.” He shakes his head again then closes his eyes. “I can’t… it’s late, I’m not explaining myself well, I don’t mean to freak you out-”

 

“It’s okay,” Evan interrupts. “I’m trying. I really am. I’m trying to be strong and make this all work and there are things… there are things I just can’t tell you and I hate it.”

 

“I get it,” says Connor tiredly, and Evan thinks there are things that he can’t tell him either. “Can we just get some sleep?”

 

“Absolutely.” Evan turns off the lamp and slides back under the covers as Connor does the same. He rolls over and throws his arms around Connor, and kisses the back of his neck gently as they both fall into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

It’s their last full day at the lake house, and everyone’s exhausted and trying to relax as much as they can. Most people don’t emerge from their sleeping quarters til well after noon, except Gus, who appears to be an early riser. Reed pops into the kitchen just after 10 and finds him making blueberry muffins while whistling tunelessly and chatting to his dog in his native language. 

 

“Good morning,” Gus says cheerfully as Reed heads straight for the coffee plunger. “I make the muffins. I do the Google and it tells me how to make the muffins safe for you to eat.” He grins. “No cows. No chickens. Just muffin.”

 

“Thanks Gus,” Reed says, unable to hold back a smile. They remember Gus’s confusion about veganism back when they first met and appreciates the effort. “How did you sleep?”

 

“Not so well,” Gus says honestly. “Many thoughts in here.” He taps his forehead, then starts putting muffin batter in the muffin tins. “I think it is very complicated, yes? Many things to think. Many things to remember.” He kind of tilts his head. “You are knowing Torpedo well. How do you feel? You will be sad he is sick.”

 

“I am,” Reed admits, putting the coffee grinds into the plunger. “But we’re working on making him better.” They think that’s the simplest way to explain. 

 

Gus nods. “Very good. Connor says you are very smart and know much science. This is good thing. It will help all, I think. You are good man.” He kind of winces. “Sorry, not man. Good human. Sorry. I am learning and will try better.”

 

“Thanks Gus.” Reed smiles. Gus really has grown a lot in the last few years. He looks considerably healthier, for a start. No red-rimmed eyes, he’s put on some weight, he’s gained some muscle and he holds himself a little higher. Connor has never talked about Gus a lot, mostly because he’s aware that Torpedo, Lucas and Reed are a little wary of his twin, and Reed regrets that he’s been so separated from the rest of them for so long. Seeing Connor and Gus together… it’s nice. 

 

And now that Connor’s gotten rid of the beard, kind of creepy because they just look so alike. 

 

“Would you like some coffee?” Reed offers, and Gus smiles. 

 

“Very good,” he says. “If it is okay, I like the coffee with the cream and sugar.” He kind of tilts his head again. “If you were wanting the taste of cream but not from cow, you use soy, yes? But soy is thin. There is option for thick? How does it work?”

 

Reed launches into an explanation of vegan options for milk and cream and their various pros and cons, and Gus listens intently while putting his muffins in the oven. It’s a weird conversation, but it’s nice. Gus asks a lot of questions and pays attention and it occurs to Reed that Gus really, really, really wants to know things. 

 

It’s kind of nice to realize they’ve got something in common with their clone. 

 

The muffins are really, really good fresh out of the oven, and Gus heads off for a walk with Pampushka while Reed commandeers the kitchen table to get some assignments done. They’re having a hard time with their human bioscience class because the lecturer relies heavily on readings and tends to go on tangents when he’s talking in class, so Reed’s recordings of the lecture don’t always make sense. 

 

They miss Evan and his detailed, meticulous notes. Their notes are a hot mess. 

 

“Is that the human bioscience class?” Evan asks. Reed jumps as they hadn’t even noticed him approach. He looks exhausted and is holding a cup of coffee for dear life. He frowns. “Sorry to scare you.”

 

“It is,” Reed says, gesturing for Evan to take a seat. “I’m kind of drowning, dude.”

 

Evan frowns again. “Sorry I had to drop it, I-”

 

“It’s fine,” Reed interrupts. It’s not a conversation they should be getting into, even if they do miss having Evan’s notes. 

 

And Evan being way less visibly stressed. They miss that, too. 

 

Evan picks up a piece of paper and starts reading through, then picks up one of Reed’s pens and starts making notes. “I’ve been kind of crash coursing some of this material,” he explains as he writes in his meticulous, neat handwriting. “You’re kind of there with this bit, but I think it’ll make more sense to you if you look at it like this.” He launches into a calm, matter-of-fact explanation of the material and Reed relaxes a bit. 

 

Evan would make a good lecturer. He’s patient and good at explaining things.

 

Connor eventually shows up, looking more than a little exhausted, but he smiles and eats a muffin and sits and reads while Evan and Reed go through Reed’s notes. Gus comes back from his walk and announces that when they couldn’t find a cake on their adventure yesterday, he decided he’s going to make one, and heads into the kitchen. Pampushka cuddles up next to Connor and he absently pats the dog’s head as he reads. 

 

The afternoon goes by in a lazy haze. Donna challenges them all to a game of Monopoly, so Reed clears the table and they get stuck in. It turns out that when it comes to Monopoly, Evan is absolutely ruthless and Lucas turns out to be unlucky enough to get completely and utterly bankrupted by Evan’s real estate empire, which Connor seems to find ridiculously amusing. 

 

Once Evan has completely swept the floor with all of them, Torpedo brings out Settlers of Catan, and Gus excitedly exclaims that he knows this one. His cake is cooling, he explains, so he, Reed, Torpedo and Connor launch into a game. While Donna and Lucas make more sangria, Evan curls up on the sofa in the living room and has a nap. Once they’ve finished the first round of the game, Connor joins Evan in the living room, Gus goes to frost his cake and Donna and Lucas take their places for another match. 

 

Eventually it rolls around to dinner time and Connor and Evan are sent out in Evan’s car to pick up pizzas. Once they return, the seven of them sit in the living room, eating pizza, drinking sangria and watching stupid videos on YouTube hooked up to the television. Lucas is weirdly into old SNL skits, and Gus doesn’t really understand a lot of them but every now and then lets out a loud laugh at something he does get, and for some reason that always sets Lucas off, and everyone’s drunker than they should be and it’s just… nice. 

 

They’ve just finished the pizzas when Gus gets to his feet. “I will get cake,” he announces. 

 

“It needs candles!” Donna exclaims, pulling herself from her position on the floor clumsily. “I brought candles. 89 candles. We need 89 candles.”

 

Gus just looks at her, clearly confused. “We need 89 candles? But we are 21.” It kind of occurs to him. “21, but there are 5 of us, so… why not 105 candles?”

 

“Because,” Torpedo says with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “technically I’m only 5.”

 

Gus blinks. “But we are clone. You are same age, yes?”

 

“He is,” Connor explains, his voice patient. “But Torpedo was born on the 29th of February.”

 

Gus’s eyes light up. “I understand now. 29th of February only once in four. It means you are only five and quarter.” He breaks into a grin. “Torpedo is only small child! He should not be having the sangria, someone must take it from him!”

 

Gus howls with laughter and everyone joins in, because Gus’s amusement is infectious. Reed’s hit by a rush of affection for their clone. Gus really has come a long way. Connor takes Torpedo’s glass of sangria from him with an exaggerated finger wave, and Gus starts laughing again as Torpedo pouts and grabs it back. 

 

“Let’s get those candles,” Donna says. “I’ll help you set them up.” Gus and Donna head into the kitchen. Lucas looks mildly concerned but doesn’t stand up, which Reed thinks might be progress. 

 

“Gus is great,” Torpedo says fondly. He turns to Connor. “He’s… he’s doing okay now, yeah? He seems… he seems like he’s pretty well adjusted.”

 

“It’s been hard,” Connor says honestly. “He’s been through so much, but he’s worked hard to be happy and now he’s just… he’s so much happier.” A shadow passes over his face. “It was touch and go there for a while, whether he’d… whether he’d make it. The shit he’d had to live through is just…” Connor takes in a deep breath and lets it out, and Evan squeezes his hand. “He’s doing okay now.”

 

“Donna likes him,” Lucas says, his tone kind of guarded. “She kind of… gave me a hard time for being suspicious, so I tried to explain but I don’t think she believes me.” He looks thoughtful. “When you see him now, it’s hard to believe that he’s the same guy who… you know.”

 

“I think it’s inspiring,” says Evan suddenly. “I think it’s inspiring that no matter how bad things get, no matter what situations you get into that are dark and horrible, no matter how deep you think you’re in, you can turn things around and be happy. Make peace with your demons. Find some kind of… balance and happiness.” Everyone looks at him, and he turns a little pink. “I don’t know, I just think that with everything he’s gone through, the fact that he’s who he is is really inspiring. I know it’s kind of cheesy, but…”

 

“I don’t think it’s cheesy,” Connor says, smiling softly at Evan. 

 

Torpedo rolls his eyes. “Ugh, why did I agree to go away for the weekend with you lovestruck idiots?” he says dramatically. “Connor and Evan are gross. Lucas and Donna are gross. Gus keeps waxing poetic about Handsome Fruit Man. My aromantic asexual ass has no frame of reference for this mushy shit. You’re all terrible.” 

 

“Hey!” Reed says, mock-offended. “I’m not being gross.”

 

Torpedo points at them with a grin. “I’ve heard about you and your booty buddies. You’ve got no leg to stand on, my friend.”

 

Evan snorts. “Booty buddy.” Connor cracks up laughing, and they all start laughing just as Gus and Donna show up with a large cake absolutely covered in candles. 

 

“This is a fire hazard,” Lucas says mildly as Gus puts the cake on the coffee table. 

 

“Whatever, mom,” says Torpedo, scooting toward the table. “Okay, gather round, all you handsome faced motherfuckers. Let’s skip the singing and go straight to the cake.”

 

Gus lets out a sigh of disappointment. “How can we have birthday with no song?”

 

“Fine Gus, you can sing it,” says Connor indulgently. 

 

Gus grins, then launches into a very enthusiastic, utterly tuneless rendition of what must be Happy Birthday in Ukrainian. It doesn’t sound even slightly familiar to Reed, so they assume it must be a different melody to what’s usually sung in English, but they’re not sure if that really matters, because Gus is… 

 

Well, it’s kind of fucking adorable, actually. Connor’s grinning like an idiot, Evan looks like he’s trying not to crack up laughing, Lucas looks like his ears might be in physical pain and Torpedo is legitimately laughing. When the song is finally over, Gus gestures for the five of them to blow out the candles, and they manage to get all 89 extinguished pretty quickly.

 

There’s this moment where they’re all crowded around the cake with a ridiculous amount of candles, and Reed looks around and catches a glimpse of these four familiar faces, all bathed in light, and it kind of makes something in their heart warm. 

 

Being a clone isn’t always easy but when they’re all together like this, slightly drunk and happy and warm, it’s not so bad. 

 

In fact, it’s actually pretty fucking cool.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	64. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Clone Party comes to an end.

Gus has to leave early Monday morning, as he’s got a long drive ahead of him to get home. Connor sets an alarm to make sure he’s up, and when Evan doesn’t stir he decides not to wake him.

 

He’ll make sure that Evan and Gus see each other again. Evan needs all the sleep he can get before he goes back to DYAD tomorrow.

 

Pampushka bounds up to him as he gets downstairs, and Connor gives her a fuss, then heads into the kitchen where Gus is drinking coffee and wolfing down some of his muffins from yesterday. He grins when he sees Connor.

 

“I do not know why people complain about the vegan foods,” he says conversationally. “This muffin is still good. Good as muffin with milk and eggs, I think. Just different.”

 

“Oh, so you’re converting to veganism now,” Connor jokes. “More power to you.”

 

Gus laughs. “I do not think so. I like the steak too much. Also the fish. And the chicken. And the cheese. One day, I would like to try the… what do you call the slug with house on back?”

 

“Snail?”

 

“Yes, snail.” He looks thoughtful. “Is strange, but I would like to try. One day I will travel and eat all the foods in the world. It will be very good.”

 

“Tell you what,” Connor suggests, “when I graduate college, you and I can do some traveling together. What do you think?”

 

Gus’s whole face lights. “Travel with my favorite twin brother? Yes. I would like this very much.”

 

“I’m your only twin brother.”

 

“Still favorite.”

 

Gus pulls Connor in for a hug and Connor just… lets himself enjoy it for a while. It’s always hard, saying goodbye. He’s not sure when he’ll next see Gus. He usually tries to spend the summer with Gus and Seamus, but with everything that’s going on…

 

Honestly, he can’t even think that far ahead. He just has to keep his head down and just keep going.

 

“You are strong,” says Gus firmly against Connor’s shoulder. “You are strong, and you will stay strong through all things difficult. I would like… I would like very much that things are not difficult for you, but I know that you will be strong through it all.” He pulls back and taps Connor’s chest lightly. “Listen to this, yes? It will guide you. Keep you safe. Keep you strong.”

 

“You too,” says Connor gently. “It’s been great to see you.”

 

“It’s always good to see you,” Gus replies warmly. “I love you very much.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“Oh!” Gus says, pulling out something from his pocket. “Is birthday gift from Torpedo. I have clone phone now. We can send messages, not just email.” His expression grows serious. “Also, this will mean that if things are very bad, I can come to you quickly to help.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to-”

 

“I know this,” Gus interrupts. “I know you do not want this. But when you say there is danger… how I have lived is always danger. I know what to do. I will not…” he takes a deep breath, then continues. “I cannot do nothing if you are in danger. You must know this.”

 

“I hope it won’t come to that,” Connor says honestly. “But thank you.”

 

Gus smiles again. “You will come outside and wave as I drive? I would like this.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Gus picks up his duffel bag, whistles for Pampushka and heads outside. Connor follows, feeling his heart clench a little.

 

He doesn’t want to say goodbye.

 

Gus puts his bag in his truck, gets Pampushka settled in her bed in the back, then comes back to Connor and pulls him into yet another hug. When he lets go, Connor can see that his eyes are watery. “I always like to see you,” says Gus, voice a little choked up. “And this time I see you and other clones, and meet your Evan and Lucas’s Donna? It is blessing to do this. I liked it very, very much. It was very good birthday. Maybe best birthday.”

 

“I’m so glad you came,” Connor replies, equally choked up. “Make sure you ask Handsome Fruit Man out for coffee, okay? You deserve to be happy.”

 

“You also deserve to be happy,” says Gus with a smile. “You and Evan will be careful, yes? And you will call if you need me. I will protect you.”

 

They hug again, then Gus reluctantly climbs into his truck and drives away. Connor watches him go until his truck is just a tiny box in the distance, wrapping his arm around himself. He takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes and heads back to bed.

 

* * *

 

No one really wants to leave the lake house.

 

Everyone has a leisurely brunch, and it’s weirdly quiet without Gus and his enthusiasm and his dog. Still, it’s calm and its peaceful out in the middle of nowhere with just each other’s company and no one really seems to want to go home in a hurry.

 

Evan certainly doesn’t.

 

Once they’ve finished eating brunch, Donna starts cleaning the kitchen. Reed gives the bathrooms a once over, Connor wrestles the vacuum cleaner from Torpedo, insisting that he’s in no shape to be vacuuming, and Evan starts packing up his things as Lucas puts the karaoke machine back in the car. Between the lot of them, they’ve got the place looking more or less spotless in no time and soon they’re just sitting in the living room, idly talking and just kind of… putting off leaving.

 

Lucas and Donna, who have a slightly longer drive, head off first, and Donna insists on hugging everyone. “It’s so nice to meet you all,” she says warmly. “Weird, but great. We should do this again sometime.”

 

“I completely agree,” says Torpedo enthusiastically. “I reckon this place would be great in the summer. We could go swimming in the lake.”

 

No one points out that Torpedo might not make it to summer, but Evan can tell he’s not the only one thinking it.

 

It’s terrifying.

 

Lucas shakes Evan’s hand in farewell and smiles a little awkwardly, and Evan tries to give him a proper smile back. They don’t really know each other, though they’ve had a bit more time to connect this weekend, and Evan suspects it’s going to take more than just a weekend for the two of them to get to know each other. Connor’s said it took some time for he and Lucas to actually get along, and while they’re still sometimes at each other’s throats, it’s obvious they both care.

 

Then it’s just Reed, Connor, Torpedo and Evan. They’re more or less heading in the same direction, so they agree to convoy and take it slow. They drive for an hour or so, then stop somewhere for lunch. It’s an out of the way diner, and the waitress is a bit taken aback to see three identical faces and Evan in her section, but they order some food and chat for a bit.

 

“You made it an entire weekend without punching Lucas,” Torpedo says to Connor with a cheeky grin. “Well done, you.”

 

“Is punching Lucas something you do often?” Evan asks, taking a sip of his milkshake.

 

“I’ve punched him _once,_ ” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “And he punched me first.”

 

Evan puts down his drink. “Wait, really?”

 

Torpedo nods. “I was there. It was quite something.”

 

“Oh my god. Why did you punch him?”

 

Connor scrunches up his nose and eats a fry. “Because he punched me first, I just told you.”

 

“Why did he punch you?”

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

Torpedo launches into the tale from start to finish, and Connor and Reed occasionally interject with corrections or comments, and Evan eats his burger and just enjoys seeing the siblings interact. It’s nice to remind himself just what he’s working for.

 

For weekends like this. For the chance to see Connor happy and healthy with his clones. For karaoke and donuts and muffins and milkshakes and board games and sangria and light.

 

As they go to leave, something occurs to Evan. “Connor, do you think that you could maybe take Reed back to their apartment on your way?” he asks suddenly.

 

Connor frowns. “I guess. What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Evan says hurriedly. “It’s just… I’ve just realized we’re like, half an hour from… you know, home. And I thought I could stop in and see my mom.”

 

Connor blinks, and something strange passes over his face. Evan wonders if Connor still considers the town they grew up home.

 

Probably not.

 

“If you don’t mind dropping me off, that’s fine by me,” says Reed. “Just let me get my stuff out of Evan’s car.”

 

They head to the cars, Reed moves their bag and Connor takes Evan’s hand and squeezes it. “Any reason you all of a sudden have to see your mom?” Connor asks, still looking a little concerned. “Is everything alright?”

 

“I’ve just been so busy,” Evan replies honestly. “And since I’m nearby… I just really want to see her.”

 

Connor nods. “Okay.” He smiles a little. “Hey, did she like the wine of the month club thing we got her for Christmas?”

 

Evan blinks. “We?” he asks, kind of stupidly.

 

Connor turns bright red. “Sorry,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “I just meant...”

 

“It was your brilliant idea,” Evan says firmly, trying to smile. “Even if she doesn’t know it, it’s from both of us. That sounds good.” His face falls a little. “I wish you could meet her.”

 

“I wish I could, too.” Connor leans in and kisses Evan softly. “Anyone who raised someone as amazing as you has to be at least as amazing.”

 

Evan really, really, really wants to just… throw caution to the wind and bring Connor back home with him to meet his mom.

 

He’s thought about it so many times. Maybe his mom won’t recognize Connor. She’d only ever seen pictures of him, after all. He could introduce Connor as Ben Childs, and any resemblance could be explained away, and it’d be fine, right?

 

Except that Heidi knows Cynthia. They’re not best friends, but they’re friendly, and occasionally meet for coffee despite being very different people. All it would take is one slip up, one stupid photo or idle comment or…

 

It’s too much of a risk and Evan can’t take it.

 

Not with DYAD.

 

Not when he knows what they’re capable of.

 

It’s suddenly very, very important that he see his mom.

 

“Drive safely,” Evan says, pulling Connor in for another kiss. “Text me when you’re home, okay?”

 

“You too,” Connor replies, smiling. “Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

He gets in his car and plugs in the directions to his childhood home into the GPS on his phone. He doesn’t have to get the rental car back to the hiring place until 8pm, so he’s got some time, as long as he isn’t there too long. He knows his mom doesn’t work Mondays, so that she’s likely to be around, and the drive feels quicker than expected. He lets himself in to find his mom in the kitchen making a hot drink.

 

She puts down her mug, lets out a surprised yelp and runs over to give him a hug. “Hi honey! It’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?”

 

“I, uh, I went away for a long weekend with some friends,” he says into her shoulder. It’s just so comforting to know that she’s here and alive and warm and safe and he doesn’t want to let go quite yet. “Then I realized when I was driving back that coming to see you wasn’t much of a detour, so… here I am.”

 

“You went away with your friends?” she says happily. “That’s so great, Evan. And you had a good time?” She pulls away and holds his arms, beaming at him.

 

“I did,” he says honestly. “I, uh, I can’t stay long. I had to hire a rental car for the weekend because mine’s in the shop so I have to be back to the rental place by 8, but I figured even a short visit is better than nothing and I haven’t seen you since Christmas, so…”

 

“Do you want hot chocolate?” she offers.

 

“That sounds great,” he replies honestly. He remembers something. “I have donuts in my car, do you want some?”

 

“Sure,” she says with a grin. “Hot chocolate and donuts sound great.”

 

Evan goes back to his car and takes out the box of donuts he’s been sent home with. Gus had refused to take any back with him, according to Connor. He’d kept saying they were a gift. They’d made a dent in the ridiculous amount of donuts over the weekend but all three cars had ended up with at least a full box to take on the road with them.

 

“So tell me about your weekend,” says Heidi as Evan sits on the couch with her and takes a cup of hot chocolate gratefully. “And your friends. And your job. How’s that independent study going? I haven’t heard from you in a while, honey, I’ve been worried you’re working too hard.” She looks at him and her smile fades just a little bit. “You look so tired.”

 

“It’s hard work,” he admits. “But this weekend away was fun. My friend Ben who I told you about? It’s his birthday, and it was also my friend Reed’s birthday, and Ben has a twin brother named Gus, and some other friends of ours also had February birthdays and everyone was turning 21 so we just decided to have a combined celebration for them at Reed’s aunt’s lake house.” 

 

“That sounds wonderful,” Heidi says warmly. “I think a break is just what you needed. So you’re back to work tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah,” Evan replies. He’s not sure how he feels about it. Going back to DYAD is… scary. Especially knowing how sick Torpedo is. How important it is they find the cure. “It’s… pretty intense.”

 

“It sounds it,” Heidi says. “The other day I was getting gas, and I ran into Larry Murphy. He was saying that he’s done some work for this DYAD Institute and that your internship is a pretty big deal.” She smiles. “That this could mean big things for your career. I’m so proud of you.”

 

“Thanks,” says Evan, feeling his ears turn pink and his stomach turns a little at the thought of DYAD talking to Larry about him. He still doesn’t know what Larry knows.

 

“It all sounds really great,” Heidi continues. “This genetics program… it’s a bit different to what you had in mind, but you’re enjoying it? It’s what you want to do?”

 

“It is,” Evan says, not sure if he’s lying or not. He’s enjoying the science of it, that much is true. It’s challenging, it’s rewarding, it’s practical science that cuts to the heart of things and it’s… well, there’s something kind of amazing about knowing that what you’re working on is life or death.

 

Maybe DYAD picked him because of his proximity to Reed, but he wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t have something to offer in and of himself, right?

 

Then he thinks about Yorick in the basement with his skull cracked open.

 

He thinks about what he’s keeping from DYAD.

 

He thinks about what a dangerous position he’s in.

 

And what that could mean for the people he cares about.

 

“Mom,” he says, trying to keep his tone even. “Can I… can you do something for me?”

 

“Sure sweetie,” she says, taking his hand and squeezing it. “What do you need?”

 

“I…” He takes a deep breath and continues. “I’m working on some pretty high-level stuff,” he admits. “The security is really tight and it’s really intense and… there’s some risk involved.”

 

Heidi’s eyes widen in alarm and she clasps his hand tighter. “Risk? What do you mean by risk?”

 

“I’m fine,” Evan assures her. “I’m fine, it’s probably nothing, it’s just that…” He tries to come up with a lie that will make sense of what he’s trying to say. “I’m a really minor part of what’s going on, so I’m probably not at risk at all, it’s just that some of my colleagues? They’re worried about competitors and like, dangerous people targeting them, and it’s really nothing to worry about at all, I promise, except that one of my colleagues has, like, a code word? With her husband? So that if anyone showed up and was like ‘oh, your wife sent us’ he could be like ‘what’s the code word?’ and know if they were, like, there to help or there to… anyway, I thought maybe we could do that? You know, just in case. It’s no big deal. It’s probably not a big deal. It would just make me feel better? I don’t know.”

 

Heidi looks very, very freaked out. “If there’s _any_ risk in what you’re doing, you need to quit right away,” she says firmly. “You’re not even twenty-one yet, Evan. If there’s even the slightest chance you might get hurt because of this job-”

 

“There’s not,” Evan lies frantically. “There’s not. I’m just being paranoid. I’m overreacting. I’m totally overreacting. There were just some security concerns recently and the head of security suggested that we do this and I thought, like, you’re the person who’s the closest to me and I wanted you to be safe and it’s all just theoretical and everything’s fine? Everything’s fine. It’s all fine. It’s just a safety thing. Can we just please have a code word? Please? It would make me feel better.”

 

“I don’t like this,” she says, still frowning. “I don’t want to even think about the possibility of you being in danger-”

 

“I’m not in danger,” he tries to assure her. “I’m not. I’m really not. I didn’t mean to freak you out. It’s just a stupid thing. Just a stupid code word thing but if we have one then I can say that I did and the head of security will be pleased about it and you can’t tell anyone about this but we just… please, Mom?”

 

Heidi sighs but still looks troubled. “Well, what kind of code word would it be?” she asks.

 

“Anything,” Evan says quickly. He looks down at his mug. “Mini marshmallows.”

 

“The code word is mini marshmallows?”

 

“Well, that’s two words,” Evan says with a shaky laugh. “So it’s more like a code phrase. I think it’s good. It’s good, right? Just like, a little code phrase, it’s no big deal. No big deal at all, it’s just… it’s just a code phrase, just in case.”

 

“In case of what, Evan?” Heidi asks carefully. “Honey, there’s something you’re not telling me.”

 

“It’s all fine,” Evan says with a frantic nod. “It’s all fine, everything is fine, it’s just… it’s just theoretical and there’s some stuff we’re working on that’s competitive and people are… look, no one’s going to know my name, I’m not important enough to be targeted, I’m really not. But there are people in the organization who are and they do this kind of thing so… I know I’m being silly, I know I’m not important enough to be, like, tracked down by someone who’s trying to get information about what we’re working on…”

 

He trails off, and Heidi’s expression shifts a little from alarm and fear to… a different kind of concern. “Honey, have you found yourself a therapist on campus yet?” she asks gently. “I’m… please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re sounding a little paranoid and it might be your anxiety playing tricks on you.”

 

“I haven’t yet,” Evan admits. “But I will. I will absolutely do that if you think I should do that because you’re my mom and you want what’s best for me and…” He kind of deflates a little, kind of slightly relaxes. As much as he doesn’t want his mom to think that his anxiety is playing up, it’s infinitely preferable to his mother worrying that he’s legitimately going to get himself murdered over his job. “I know I sound a little paranoid,” he says quietly. “It’s just… it’s been stressful.”

 

“It really sounds it,” says Heidi, nodding understandingly. “Do you feel better now that we have our code word? Sorry, phrase?”

 

“I do,” Evan assures her. “Thanks for humoring me on this one. I know it sounds crazy-”

 

“No,” Heidi interrupts, shaking her head. “You’re not crazy, sweetheart. Crazy’s not the word. You’ve come so far, you’re working so hard, you’re so successful… it’s okay to be finding things a little rough. Doesn’t mean all your progress is lost. You’re talking to me about how you’re feeling and that’s really good.” She smiles a little. “Did you have a nice time away with your friend Ben?” she asks, her tone teasing.

 

Evan’s eyes widen in alarm. “Mom.”

 

“You just talked about him a lot at Christmas, that’s all,” she says breezily. “And you were with him at Thanksgiving and… well, he’s come up in conversation a lot, I just thought I’d ask.”

 

Evan’s very aware he’s turning bright pink. He doesn’t know what to do. He makes a snap decision. “I like him a lot,” he admits. “But it’s complicated.”

 

“Because he’s in New York,” Heidi says, nodding knowingly.

 

_Because he’s not Ben at all, he’s actually my fake dead best friend from high school, Connor Murphy. Who also happens to be the genetic identical of my closest friend at college. Oh, and there are countless other genetic identicals, but they’re all going to die, so my new job is working on a way to cure them. And that’s just the short version. The long version is even more complicated._

 

“Yeah,” Evan lies. “Because he’s in New York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	65. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Pippa work things out.

Connor gets into Pippa’s car on Thursday morning, a week before his birthday, and Pippa hands him a perfectly wrapped present. He kind of stares at it blankly, more than a little confused. “Uh…”

 

“Happy birthday?” Pippa says, looking a little amused. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

 

“My birthday’s not until…” Connor trails off and then realizes what’s going on. 

 

Today must be Ben’s birthday. 

 

Pippa’s expression softens a bit. “Things have been crazy, huh?” she says with a sympathetic smile. “It’s definitely February 8th. Your 18th birthday.”

 

“Huh,” says Connor, not really sure what to do say. “Right. Uh, thank you?”

 

Pippa kind of laughs. “You can open it, you know.” Connor dutifully unwraps it as Pippa pulls into the flow of traffic, to find an elegant fountain pen and a beautiful leather bound journal. He smiles. 

 

He actually really fucking likes this. 

 

“Thank you,” he says warmly. “Thank you, seriously, this is… this is great, thank you.”

 

“I can’t believe you forgot your birthday,” says Pippa with a laugh, but she’s smiling and looks really pleased. “I thought we could maybe go out for dinner tomorrow night to celebrate.” Her eyes widen a bit as she continues. “As friends, obviously. My shout. What do you say?”

 

Honestly, Connor’s not sure. Over the past few weeks since they broke up, hanging out with Pippa has been… nice. He’s actually gotten to know her a bit better as a person, and now that they’re not together, she seems to have relaxed more. Less like she’s trying to be perfect and presentable, more like an actual person. 

 

Getting back into the swing of Ben’s life has been surreal and weird and Pippa’s friendship has actually been a source of comfort, which he would never have believed. But he’s tired - down to the bone tired - and the thought of going out and having dinner in public is just too much. 

 

“Would you mind if maybe we just ordered takeout and hung out at mine?” he offers as an alternative. “It’s just that I’m kind of… not really feeling going out right now.”

 

Pippa nods. “Sure. That works for me.” She starts talking about the AP History test and Connor lets himself relax a little. 

 

_ Private message to  _ **_torpeedo_ **

 

**emochilds** : dude

**emochilds** : no one told me Bens birthday was today

**emochilds** : wtf

**torpeedo** : srsly?

**torpeedo** : you like

**torpeedo** : have his id

**emochilds** : shut up

**emochilds** : pippa gave me a present

**torpeedo** : nice

**torpeedo** : happy not ur birthday i guess

**torpeedo** : when is urs?

**emochilds** : next week

**emochilds** : feb 15

**emochilds** : u?

**torpeedo** : feb 29

**emochilds** : no fucking way

**torpeedo** : yeah dude

**torpeedo** : leap year baby

**torpeedo** : im like 4 yrs old

**emochilds** : u smoke way 2 much weed for a 4 yr old

**torpeedo** : lol

**torpeedo** : so next week huh?

**torpeedo** : wanna come over n play video games n get high?

**emochilds** : absolutely

 

The rest of the day goes relatively smoothly. He does well on his AP History test, he runs into Peter during study hall and they have a brief chat, which is nice. There’s a meeting for the paper after school so he doesn’t get a ride with Pippa and he’s cornered by his English teacher as he’s leaving the school grounds. 

 

“Ben!” exclaims Ms. Sedley, running to catch up to him with her short legs. She’s barely five foot and Connor always feels like a giant whenever he stands next to her. He stops and heads back in her direction. 

 

“Hi Ms. Sedley,” he says, trying to keep his tone friendly. He really just wants to go home and crash for a bit, but this teacher is nice and deserves not to be ignored. “What’s up?”

 

“I just wanted to touch base with you about your college application,” she says, a little out of breath. “As I saw you leave, I realized I hadn’t heard anything after I wrote you that letter of recommendation and wanted to know if you’ve heard anything. Any news?”

 

Connor has absolutely no idea what to say. 

 

Sure, he’s thought about college, but he hasn’t, like, done anything about it. 

 

He has a moment of panic as he realizes he might have left it too late. 

 

But then he kind of… catches on what his English teacher said. Letter of recommendation. If she’s written Ben a letter of recommendation, then maybe Ben’s already got this all sorted out. 

 

He dimly remembers overhearing Alana Beck saying something about having done her college applications over the summer when she was talking to everyone she could on the first day of school. 

 

She’d actually tried to have a conversation with him and he’d kind of stood there not listening for an awkward amount of time, then just walked off mid-sentence, which was kind of a dick move, but he’s not even sure if she noticed. 

 

“No news yet,” he manages to say, and Ms. Sedley’s expression turns sympathetic. 

 

“I didn’t mean to freak you out, Ben,” she says, her tone apologetic. “I just wanted to check in while I had it fresh in my mind.” She smiles. “If it helps, I believe you in. I wrote you a glowing recommendation and I meant every word of it. You’re a driven young man and I’m sure you’ll go far.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

She nods a little, then her smile drops a bit. “I also wanted to… check in to see how you were doing, after Jerome’s passing. I know you were friends. What happened to him is truly horrible and I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

 

He’s not sure what to say to that except thank you again, and then awkwardly excuses himself and heads back to his apartment. 

 

When he gets in, he fires up Ben’s laptop and starts looking through the folder labeled ‘College’. After a few minutes, he breathes out a sigh of relief, because… 

 

Thank God Ben Childs is an organizational freak. 

 

Everything’s labeled on a neat checklist and he’s got all his documentation scanned and saved and from what Connor can see, Ben’s applied for at least 3 different colleges. Connor scrolls through the documents and spots a file named ‘Personal Essay’. He clicks on it, curious. 

 

His phone rings. 

 

Connor answers it. 

 

“Hello?”

 

The voice at the other end of the line is tinny. “Hey sweetie, it’s Mom. Happy birthday!” 

 

It honestly takes Connor a moment to figure out what’s going on. “Thank you,” he says, as it clicks that… this is Ben’s mother. Calling to wish him a happy birthday. 

 

This is the first time he has heard either of Ben’s parents’ voice. There have been emails, the occasional text, but this is the first phone call. 

 

Connor thought he’d gotten used to impersonating a dead man, but talking to the dead man’s mom… 

 

It’s a bit much. 

 

“How are you doing?” she asks, her tone a little harried. “We’re just waiting for a flight from Frankfurt to Paris and it’s delayed, so I figured I’d take the time to call while it’s still a decent time in New York. Are you doing alright? Have you heard from any colleges yet?”

 

“I’m fine,” he assures her, feeling a little helpless. And also, weirdly angry on Ben’s behalf. These people have barely talked to their son in months. They have no idea he’s dead. Connor doesn’t want to think about how long it would have taken them to ID Ben’s body if they hadn’t swapped places. “No word from colleges yet.”

 

“Well, we’re crossing our fingers for NYU!” says his mom, fake-bright. There’s a commotion on the other end of the line. “Sorry it’s just a short call, sweetheart - they’re just calling our flight now. Anyway, happy birthday and we’ve sent you a little something from Germany. It should hopefully arrive in the next few weeks. Love you!”

 

She hands up before Connor even has a chance to say anything. 

 

Well, Connor thinks to himself. At least he’s getting a little something from Germany. 

 

Fake ass bitch.

 

He opens up the word document and skims over one of Ben’s essays. It’s well written. Clear and concise, well argued, well researched - Ben knows what he’s doing. Connor’s a little intimidated at first. He’s nowhere near as good a writer as Ben. 

 

There’s a little voice in his head that reminds him, however, that he’s successfully impersonated Ben for 6 months now and no one’s the wiser, which means he’s got to be at least as good as Ben at this. 

 

The little voice in his head kind of sounds like Torpedo. 

 

He stumbles upon a piece of writing that catches his eye. It kind of makes him stop in his tracks. 

  
  


_ Nature versus nurture has been argued for some time by people smarter than I. More well informed than I. People with years of study, years of research, a deep understanding of human psychology and what makes us human. I can only speak from my own experiences. From a young age, I’ve had to fend for myself with parents who travel internationally for work and are often out of the country for long periods of time. While I understand the demands of their chosen profession and appreciate the trust they have in me, I sometimes wonder how this has affected the ‘nurture’ side of my equation.  _

 

_ On one hand, one would think that expecting their fourteen year old to feed himself, attend school regularly and wash his socks exhibits a huge amount of trust and confidence in this child’s abilities and maturity. After all, you wouldn’t leave a child you didn’t trust alone for such long periods of time. Does this imply confidence in their nurture to this point, or does it imply confidence in my nature? If I had been a more difficult child, would I have still been left alone? Would things be different?  _

 

_ These are things I often think about, having spent the majority of my high school years only seeing my parents on rare occasions. There are of course measures in place to ensure my safety, and I’m well provided for financially, but sometimes I think it doesn’t make up for it. It doesn’t make up for staying at home alone with the flu, having to drag myself to the pharmacy to get my own medication, having no one in the house to talk to, throwing myself into my studies to distract myself from the emptiness.  _

 

_ Am I being punished for my trustworthy nature with a lack of nurture? Has being alone made me who I am? Would I be a different person if I had been raised differently, or has nature set me in stone from a young age and nurture wouldn’t make any difference? It’s hard to know for sure. It’s hard to know how much of me is me and how much of me is how I was raised - or not, as the case may be.  _

 

_ After all, what is there to compare it to? I’m only _

 

The piece finishes there, with a small note at the end that kind of breaks Connor’s heart a little. 

 

_ This is utter wank you can’t submit this write about something else you obnoxious piece of shit _

 

He sighs and closes the laptop, resolving to keep an eye out for the mail. Here’s hoping Ben’s work pays off. Connor feels like Ben deserves it, even if he’s not here to benefit from it. 

 

He wants to do right by his dead clone. 

 

It’s not fair in some ways. Connor Murphy was a messed up, lonely kid who no one believed in. Ben Childs was a messed up, lonely kid who everyone believed in. Everyone still believes in. 

 

It’s not fair that Connor’s the one who survived of the two of them. 

 

He’s about to sit down and maybe nap for a while when he gets a notification on his clone phone that he’s received an email. He has to enter a password to get to it, as per Torpedo’s instructions, and once he opens it up he smiles a little. 

 

It’s from Gus. 

 

From: Gus    
To: Connor

Subject: hello to connor   
  
Heello to connor is gus

S show me how to do email so is safe

In contry now house is big with much lit and i like this

Am good and hop you also good

Tomorr we goto see dogs for rescue

Miss to you, please be careful of spirit

Much love gus

 

He smiles and sends back a short response before falling asleep.

 

The next day goes by relatively quickly and Pippa drops him off home, then says she’ll be around for dinner in a couple of hours. Connor takes the opportunity to tidy up a little, even though it’s not really that messy, and considers popping out to get some soda but decides against it, realizing that Pippa is probably the kind of person who has opinions about soda and this is probably something that Ben would know. 

 

Better not risk it, even if he and Pippa are getting along better. 

 

She shows up around 6 and is carrying a canvas bag full of Tupperware containers. She kind of rolls her eyes as she hands Connor the bag, then follows him into the kitchen. 

 

“So my abuela still thinks we’re together,” she says breezily, “and when I said I was heading to your place tonight to eat takeout and hang out, she decided that takeout was simply unacceptable and made me bring you proper food. So there’s tamales and she’s sent stuff to make taquitos and… yeah, she’s gone a little overboard, but she’s a good cook, so…”

 

“That’s awesome,” Connor says, and he means it. He hasn’t had anything home cooked since Reed left, and it’ll be nice to eat something home cooked that’s not vegan. 

 

“I can put stuff in the oven?” Pippa offers. Connor nods, and helps her sort things out, then they sit on the couch together for a moment. 

 

Pippa’s in soft looking jeans, a t-shirt and a fuzzy jumper. She looks soft and comfortable and young, and much less intimidating. She turns on the television and scrolls through Netflix, and puts on The Office and kind of… curls up at the corner of the sofa, away from Connor. 

 

After a while, Connor goes into the guest room to get a blanket and hands it to her. She accepts it with a small smile, and seems to relax. 

 

Connor has no idea how to act post-breakup because he’s never really broken up with anyone. Unless you count Jerome, and that only counts because…

 

He focuses on the television and tries to relax. 

 

The oven beeps halfway through the second episode, and they put the food on the coffee table then kind of sit on the floor in front of the sofa and eat as they keep going. Pippa’s brought a bottle of wine that she sneaked out of her parent’s liquor cabinet, so they crack into that, Connor being careful to make sure he’s only having a couple of glasses, because as much as he’s appreciating this new side to Pippa, he doesn’t think he should let his guard down entirely. 

 

The night progresses, and as Pippa gets a little tipsy, the transfer back to the sofa and Pippa kind of… cuddles up to Connor. He doesn’t completely hate it. Maybe he’s just really fucking touch-starved or something, but he doesn’t hate it at all. He kind of thinks about when he and Zoe were kids, and Zoe was really into hugs for no reason, and…

 

It’s weird to be comparing his ex-girlfriend to his sister. It’s really weird. 

 

Then again, it’d be weirder if he weren’t, you know, super gay. 

 

It’s getting late, and Pippa’s kind of drowsy. “Do you want to crash here?” he asks quietly. “I can set up the guest room for you.”

 

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t drive,” she mumbles, yawning a little. She looks up at him, her face young and open and… a little sad. “You’re a good man, Ben Childs.”

 

“It’s not a problem,” he replies. 

 

She smiles, and then all of a sudden her lips are on his. 

 

He jolts a little, having not expected it, and she pulls back abruptly and looks very, very embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” she says in a rush. “I just… I got caught up in it and… I’m so sorry, oh my god, that’s so embarrassing, I’ll just call a cab-”

 

“It’s fine,” he assures her. “It’s fine, as long as you know that we’re… you know…”

 

“Yeah,” Pippa replies with a nod. “I know we’re, you know, not together like that. I get it, I do. It was just a glitch.” She smiles a little sadly. “We were just together for so long and… I don’t know, I fell into old habits. Muscle memory. Something like that.”

 

Connor hesitates. “Are you alright?” he asks her frankly. “With us being… just friends?”

 

“I am,” she says, nodding vigorously. “I am, I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t, I just…” She blushes. “I’m just really fucking embarrassed, oh my god.”

 

Connor thinks about Ben’s phone. 

 

The password is the day he and Pippa got together. 

 

It just keeps sticking with him. 

 

Impulsively, he leans over and kisses Pippa on the forehead. “We’re fine,” he says, trying to be gentle. “You’re still… you’re still important to me, even if we’re not together like that anymore, you know?”

 

“I know,” Pippa says, relaxing a little bit. “I’m… I’m glad to know you, Ben.”

 

Connor doesn’t know what to say to that, so he gets up and makes sure the guest room is ready for Pippa, then gives her a spare toothbrush from the back of the bathroom cabinet and a towel and lets her get ready for bed. 

 

It takes him a long time to get to sleep.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	66. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's back to reality for Clone Club.

On Reed’s day off from DYAD, they get on a bus to New Jersey to visit Torpedo. They text Connor on the way and Connor agrees to meet them there, and later that day the three of them are sitting in Torpedo’s basement, about to Skype the sick clone in Los Angeles and his disgraced neurologist girlfriend. 

 

Connor seems kind of skeptical of the whole thing, which Reed thinks is probably fair enough. Torpedo seems eager to get everyone in touch, and sets up the call. 

 

Reed’s breath hitches just a little when they get a glimpse of the sick clone. He’s so pale he’s nearly translucent, he’s bald and he’s thin and he just looks like more of a skeleton than a person. He also looks like he’s been crying. Torpedo frowns at the sight of him. 

 

“Parker,” he says slowly. “What’s going on?”

 

“Tommy’s dead,” says Parker quietly. “The fucking idiot went surfing and had a seizure and drowned. I just found out, I…” he trails off and looks a little lost. 

 

There’s a woman with bright red hair sitting next to him and she puts her arm around him comfortingly. “Sorry to meet everyone like this,” she says quietly. “We only just found out. I’ve been keeping an eye on his social media presence.”

 

Reed turns to Torpedo, who looks dangerously close to losing it. He’s shaking. “We told him,” he says, his voice soft and disbelieving. “We told him he needed to fucking stop and he just… holy shit. Holy shit, he’s such a fucking idiot.”

 

“Seizures are a symptom then,” Connor says, his voice a little rough. “Torpedo, have you had any?”

 

Torpedo looks like he’s about to try to assure them he’s fine, then deflates. “Yeah,” he admits. “It’s, uh, it’s not pretty. I… uh… I’ve had a few.”

 

“Your mom doesn’t know you’re sick, does she?” Reed says gently. “You’ve been dealing with this all on your own?” They frown deeply. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with this alone.”

 

“Tommy would…” Parker clears his throat and continues. “Tommy would be glad you finally got your head out of your ass and told them.” He gives a feeble wave. “You must be Reed and Connor. Torpedo’s told us about you.”

 

“He didn’t tell us,” Connor says darkly. “We found out.” 

 

“What matters is we know now,” Reed says firmly, because Torpedo looks like he’s about to snap at Connor. “Ivy, I’m working with DYAD.” Before she can say anything, they hold up a hand in defense. “I’m an intern, they’re barely telling me anything, the only reason I know what’s going on is because of Evan. Evan’s… he’s in too deep with DYAD, so we haven’t told him about you, but he’s still passing information on to Torpedo, so… I’m here to act as a bridge. As much as I can.”

 

Ivy and Parker kind of look at each other, then Ivy nods. “Fair enough,” she says, her expression weary. “I’ve got to say, it’d be nice to have another set of eyes on this. I’m… I’m going around in circles. I have resources, sure, but there’s only so much I can do with what I have. Another set of eyes would be helpful, especially ones with DYAD level resources. There are things I can’t do that would be useful here that you might be able to do where you are. I think this could be really helpful.”

 

Reed agrees. If there’s one thing they’ve found from their work at DYAD, it’s that science requires collaboration and inspiration as much as anything else. Being able to bounce ideas off Evan, Kylie and Hannah has been incredibly useful and they think that adding another brain to the mix is just going to make things easier. 

 

They lean forward on the couch. “Okay, so here’s what we’ve been working on…”

 

* * *

 

After about half an hour of conversation that made next to no sense, Torpedo turns to Connor and gestures to the television. “Mario Kart while Reed nerds it out?”

 

Connor grins. “You’re on.”

 

Reed rolls their eyes, picks up the laptop and heads to another corner of the room as Torpedo and Connor get stuck into the game. Torpedo has to laugh as they get going, because he’d kind of forgotten just how fucking terrible Connor is at video games. 

 

“We’ve been doing this for three years,” Torpedo says conversationally, “and you just haven’t improved.”

 

“Lies,” Connor says, clearly concentrating. “I’ve improved, it’s just that you’re always one step ahead of me. And you get more practice than me because you live in your mom’s basement and have very little else in your life.”

 

Torpedo cracks up laughing. “It’s my basement, actually,” he reminds Connor. “Mom’s all about me having ownership of my space. That’s why it’s such a mess in here. She literally never, ever, ever comes in.”

 

“Your mom is the greatest,” Connor says with a fond grin. “She doesn’t have any chocolate chip cookies upstairs, does she?”

 

“Sorry,” Torpedo says apologetically. “She’s been crazy busy recently working on some big story. She says it has something to do with science, I don’t know actually know the specifics.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Torpedo can see Connor’s face fall a little. “Your mom doesn’t know you’re sick, does she?”

 

Torpedo feels his heart plummet a little. “No,” he admits, his voice a little raw. “How can I tell her?”

 

Connor hits the pause button on the controller and turns to Torpedo, his face grim. “I think we should start figuring out a way for you to let her know,” he says gently. “I just… I don’t think it’s fair to her for it to be sudden. What if she comes home one day and finds you dead? You said she never comes down here. If something went wrong… if things went downhill…”

 

“I can’t tell her,” Torpedo says gently. “There’s no way to explain this. No way to explain why I’m not in a hospital, no way to get to a hospital without DYAD swooping in and taking me away.”

 

“You really think they’d do that?”

 

Torpedo nods. “I really do.”

 

“We need to come up with something,” Connor insists. His voice is gentle but firm. “We need to come up with some way of making sure that you’re safe.” He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them. “If your mom… if she had to come home to your dead body one day, without even having known you were sick… that’s not fair.” 

 

Torpedo bristles. “Who are you to give me shit about this, Connor?  _ Your _ mom thinks you killed yourself.”

 

He regrets the words the minute they’re out of his mouth. Connor recoils like he’s been physically slapped. 

 

There’s silence for a moment. 

 

Torpedo sighs. “Connor, I-”

 

“My mom gives speeches about suicide prevention at colleges and high schools around the country,” Connor says, his voice far away. “I found a video of one of her speeches on YouTube sometime last year and I… I couldn’t get out of bed for the entire weekend, I just felt so guilty. The things she said. The… the grief. I could just _feel_ it, and it was like… I did that to her, Torpedo. I made her feel like that. I wish every damn day that I could take that away, but I can’t.” He shakes his head. “I can’t take back what I did to my mom. But we… we can find a way to let your mom know. Because not having seen it coming is going to hurt her even more.”

 

There’s this weird buzzing in his ears, and Torpedo finds himself saying something he’s never had the guts to admit to his clone before. 

 

“My older sister killed herself.”

 

Connor’s eyes widen but he doesn’t interrupt. Torpedo continues. “She was my half sister from my dad’s first marriage, but she lived with us. Her mom died when she was little. She was 6 years older than me and I adored her. My dad left my mom when I was 10, and Patrice begged him to stay with my mom and I, but Dad wouldn’t have it and… she gassed her in Dad’s car in the garage.” Torpedo swallows. “I don’t think my mom has ever forgiven my dad. Or herself.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” says Connor, his voice shaky. “I… shit.”

 

“Yeah.” Torpedo takes in a shaky breath. “She’s already… how can I tell her I might be dying? After everything she’s been through.”

 

Connor’s eyes are wide. “How can you not tell her?”   
  


* * *

 

Evan doesn’t want to go into the basement. 

 

He really, really, really doesn’t want to go into the basement. 

 

He’s had the excuse of not wanting to raise suspicion with Reed for the last few days, but now it’s Reed’s day off and Kylie’s back in Vermont and the scientist who’s usually monitoring Yorick is away and… 

 

Evan has to go down to the basement. 

 

He has to take readings and a blood sample and… 

 

He has to face him.

 

He has to face Yorick. 

 

He’s shaking when he walks into the room. Yorick’s drugged up to the gills and completely immobilized, but Evan can tell the moment he recognizes him. Yorick’s eyes focus immediately and Evan shivers at the look of utter revulsion on his face. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, as quietly as he can. “I didn’t… I didn’t know this would happen.”

 

There’s a moment of hope in Yorick’s eyes. He opens his mouth. It’s clear that he’s struggling to speak. 

 

His brain is exposed and covered with electrodes. 

 

His _brain_ is exposed. 

 

They’ve cut open his skull and his brain is exposed. 

 

“Are… you here… to… get me… out?”

 

Evan kneels down so he’s face to face with the clone. He owes him this, at least. He can’t look at the exposed brain, he just can’t. He takes Yorick’s hand and squeezes it gently. “I don’t think you’d survive,” he says, very very quietly. “I am so, so, so sorry.”

 

Yorick’s eyes darken. “Don’t… don’t need… sorry. Need…. Help.”

 

“I don’t know how to get you out of here,” he says honestly. “And even if I did, I… I don’t know if we could… I don’t know if I could…” 

 

He’s dimly aware that he’s crying and rubs his face. Yorick’s expression doesn’t change. 

 

“Kill me.”

 

Evan stares at him for a moment. “What?”

 

Yorick’s eyes widen. “Kill. Me.”

 

Evan shakes his head. “No. No, I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

 

Yorick’s eyes are pleading. “This… is… worse. Kill… me.”

 

He shakes his head even harder. “I can’t. I won’t. I can’t… I’m sorry, I just… I’m not a murderer, I… I can’t.”

 

“Worse… than… murder.” Yorick gasps for breath as he continues. “This… is… worse… than…” He slumps a little in his chair, and it’s obvious he doesn’t have the energy to continue. 

 

Evan wipes his eyes again, and thinks of Richard III. 

 

_ I would they were, that I might die at once, _

_ For now they kill me with a living death.  _

 

Quickly, clinically, dispassionately, he takes the readings and samples he needs to, Yorick’s eyes burning with hatred the whole time. Evan can’t look at him as he leaves to record his data, and once he’s done inputting the information, he goes to the bathroom and violently vomits. He’s dizzy and he’s nauseous and he’s shaking and he’s a murderer, he’s worse than a murderer, he's condemning a man with the face of someone he loves to a fate worse than death, he’s a monster, he’s a monster, he doesn’t deserve to live, he’s a monster, a complete monster and he can’t-

 

He curls up on the bathroom floor of the DYAD Institute and sobs until he has no tears left.

 

Then he gets up, washes his face and heads back to his office in a daze. When he sits down at his computer, there’s a missed Skype call from Hannah and he calls her back almost automatically. 

 

“Hey Hannah,” he says, trying to keep his voice from sounding as tired as he feels. “Sorry I missed your call.”

 

“It’s okay,” she says, smiling. “I just had a question about one of these synthetic sequences and Kylie’s out of the office for lunch, so I thought I’d ask you. Do you mind running me through it?”

 

What follows is a more intense conversation than Evan’s got the capacity to deal with right now, but he soldiers on anyway. He likes Hannah, but she’s asking a lot of questions and he’s stumbling over the answers and he’s useless and he can’t even do this right and he’s a monster and it’s all pointless because he’ll never cure them, he’ll never cure them and Torpedo could die any day and Connor would never forgive him and then Connor will die and Reed will die and -

 

“Evan. Evan, hey.”

 

He looks at the screen blankly to see that Hannah’s looking very, very worried. “Sorry, what was that last part?” Evan bluffs. “I didn’t catch it, it must be a bad connection, I just-”

 

“You’re hyperventilating,” Hannah says, her voice concerned but calm. 

 

“I’m fine-”

 

“You’re not.” 

 

She’s right. 

 

He’s not fine. 

 

He’s really, really not fine. 

 

He’s so not fine that he’s almost forgotten what fine looks like. 

 

“Sorry,” he says, sighing. “I’m just… a little stressed. It’s been… it’s been a rough week.”

 

Hannah nods. “Okay.” She doesn’t look less concerned, but her face softens a bit. “It must be a lot, being full time now,” she says gently. “I’m finding it pretty intense and I’m only working part-time. I think you need to cut yourself a bit of break.”

 

Evan opens his mouth to retort that he  _ can’t _ take a break, it’s too important what they’re doing, but realizes at the last minute that Hannah thinks that this entire project is theoretical. 

 

“It is a lot,” he says instead. “But I’m fine, I can handle it. I just… had a bad morning, you know how it is.”

 

Hannah nods. “Yeah. I do.” She smiles a little. “Next week when I’m in town, before Zoe comes for the weekend, how about you and I have dinner or something? You can tell me embarrassing stories about Zoe in high school and I’ll tell you about the time she flashed a motel desk clerk.”

 

Evan laughs, despite himself. “That sounds… it sounds great, Hannah, I’m sorry I’m such a mess, I-”

 

“You’re okay,” Hannah assures him. “Just maybe… go get a cup of coffee or something?”

 

“Do you have what you need from me?” Evan checks. 

 

“I’m all good,” she replies. “If I need anything I’ll email. That work?”

 

“That sounds good,” says Evan. “Thank you, Hannah.” He tries to smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing you next week.”

 

“You too.”

 

* * *

 

Lucas has a headache. 

 

An absolute bitch of a headache.

 

And he’s freaking out. 

 

After the weekend, he’s more paranoid about DYAD than ever, and what’s not helping is Donna’s increasing concern over his wellbeing. 

 

“They keep asking me how you’re feeling,” Donna says, putting a cold compress over his forehead. She’s insisted he lie down, which he’s not going to argue about because he feels like shit. “I don’t know what I should be telling them, babe. I know you don’t want to go in and see them, and I know why you don’t trust them, but… they might be able to help you at least feel a bit better. Right?”

 

“I don’t trust them and I don’t want to be anywhere near them,” he insists, closing his eyes. “Torpedo’s visiting in the weekend. He’s got some medication for me. Recommended by his scientist friend. It should help.”

 

“Can he get here sooner?” Donna asks. He can hear the concern in her voice. “Or I could go to him. Skip class and drive to New Jersey. I’m happy to do it if it makes you feel better.”

 

“I’ll see how I go,” Lucas says. Selfishly, he doesn’t really want her to go anywhere. 

 

He’s scared and he wants her by his side. 

 

He can feel Donna stroking his hair, then she climbs into bed next to him and snuggles up to his side. “I’m worried about you,” she confesses. “Seeing Torpedo over the birthday weekend… he didn’t look great. I don’t want to see you like that, I… I’m scared.”

 

“Me too,” Lucas confesses. “But we’ve got people working on it.”

 

“You mean Evan’s working on it,” she says, her voice a little unhappy. “You’re not being fair on him. He’s working himself to the bone - he had a panic attack over the birthday weekend when we talked about it. He wants to help you. He’s a good man.”

 

Lucas doesn’t want to fight Donna on this. 

 

Part of him wants to tell her that Evan’s not the only option they have, that they’ve got someone else working on, but he’s not sure how she’ll react. 

 

Dimly, he realizes that his distrust of DYAD has spread to his fiancée. 

 

“I’m glad I don’t have to go through this alone,” he says instead. “I don’t know how Torpedo dealt with it for a whole year. Having to hide it… I can’t imagine doing that.”

 

“I’m glad you don’t have to hide it, either,” Donna confesses. “I know you weren’t expecting to tell me and I understand why you didn’t, but… I’m glad I know.” There’s a catch in her voice as she continues. “I’m glad to know you. And your siblings. They’re… they’re more of a family to your than your asshole parents have ever been, and I… I just love you so fucking much and I’m so glad I get to meet these people who are important to you, who are part of who you are, and I… I just fucking love you, okay?”

 

“I love you, too,” he replies honestly. He takes the compress off his forehead and pulls Donna into a kiss. “I want to be around to do this for a very long time and I promise I’ll do everything I can to make that happen.”

 

Donna wraps her arms around him and pulls him into another kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	67. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah comes to town.

Connor drives down to Evan’s on Saturday afternoon and knocks on the door. There’s no answer, so he knocks again, then calls Evan to check in. It takes a while for the call to connect, but when it does, Evan’s voice is groggy. 

 

“Connor?” 

 

“Hey, I’m outside,” he says, a little concerned. “Were you sleeping? It’s three in the afternoon.”

 

“I’m up,” he says, still a little dazed, and moments later the door opens and Connor’s ushered in. 

 

Evan looks like he’s been hit by a truck. There are dark circles around his eyes, his hair is a mess and he’s shivering a little. Connor is immediately concerned. “You’re not well, are you.”

 

“Just tired,” he says, yawning a little. 

 

“You’re shivering.”

 

“It’s winter.”

 

“Okay,” says Connor decisively. “Go sit on the sofa, I’ll make you some tea.” 

 

Evan curls up on the sofa almost immediately and by the time Connor gets back with some tea, he’s fast asleep. Connor frowns a little, then grabs the blankets from the bedroom and puts one on Evan, then curls up in another next to him and watches old episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine while Evan gently snores. 

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon like this. Around 6ish, Reed shows up with samosas, spring rolls and dumplings, and Connor shakes Evan awake just long enough for him to eat something. He has a couple of samosas, then almost immediately goes back to sleep. Reed looks concerned. 

 

“He’s not doing so great, is it?”

 

Connor shakes his head. “No. Hopefully he’s getting the sleep he needs and it’ll help? I don’t know.” Evan snores against his shoulder and he smiles a little, then looks back at Reed. “How’s everything going at DYAD?”

 

Reed looks troubled. “There’s a lot of secrecy,” they admit. “A lot of secrecy, and a lot of people buzzing around. There’s talk of someone coming in next week from the UK - a specialist of some kind.” They kind of hesitate for a moment, then look at Evan’s sleeping form. “I think it might be that clone Evan was talking about. The one who was raised by DYAD. I doubt I’ll meet him but… Evan will probably have to deal with him again.”

 

Connor brushes Evan’s hair out of his eyes. Evan sighs a little in his sleep and moves closer to him. “This can’t go on,” Connor says finally. “He can’t keep doing this. We need… he needs to go to part-time or something. I’m worried about his health and his anxiety and… is there any way you can talk to his boss? You managed to get the time off for him for the weekend, would she be able to talk to him about things?”

 

“He won’t like it,” Reed warns. “But Kylie’s sensible. I think she’ll agree. It’s just a case of if the higher-ups at DYAD will be okay with it.” Something dark passes over Reed’s face. “I think that by working him to the bone, they’re… I don’t know, there’s just something not right about all of it.”

 

Connor tries to keep his heart rate normal. He’s feeling panic rise up in him and that’s not helpful right now. “You said that Hannah was coming to town this week?” he says instead. “Zoe’s Hannah?”

 

“She is,” Reed confirms. “On Wednesday until Friday. And apparently Zoe’s coming on Friday as well and they’re spending the weekend here. They want to catch up with Evan.” They wince a little. “And with me.”

 

Connor blinks. “You’re not… you can’t meet my sister, Reed.”

 

“Obviously I know that,” Reed says with more patience than Connor thinks he would have had in their place. “I’ll get mysteriously unwell and take my leave. I’ll make it work, don’t worry. I’ll just have to be careful.” Reed points at Connor with a spring roll. “You can’t be here next weekend either.”

 

“I know that,” Connor replies defensively. 

 

He wishes he could be. 

 

He’d give almost anything to see Zoe again. Even if it’s just a glimpse. Just for a moment. From a distance. He’s so, so, so fucking tempted to just… stick around and spy on them and watch them from across a restaurant or from behind a door or even put on one of those stupid glasses and mustache combo things to try to disguise himself. 

 

There’s so much he regrets when it comes to Zoe. 

 

Time’s taught him a lot, and he’s learned to live with the guilt and regret to an extent, but he’s never going to be completely okay with everything he put Zoe through. 

 

He knows there are things his parents could have differently in raising him, things they could have done differently to help him deal with his mental illness.The last few years with Seamus as a parental figure have shown Connor that there were areas where Larry Murphy was sorely lacking, and the combination of toxic masculinity and just not really understanding Connor’s problems caused damage he’s only just starting to learn to repair. 

 

Connor’s had a lot of time to think and reflect about Larry and Cynthia Murphy’s parenting, and has come to the conclusion that while they tried their best, they were out of their depth and didn’t know what to do with a kid with issues like he had. 

 

Of course, compared to Anthony and Janine Childs, Larry and Cynthia are fucking spectacular. At least they were there and they tried. Ben’s parents just weren’t. And still aren’t. 

 

Connor’s got access to his trust fund now, having just turned 21, and he’s quietly funneling it all into an account that no one but him can touch. Just in case. The best thing Ben’s parents ever did for both Ben and Connor was providing the funds to do what needed to be done. If Connor ever needs to just… not be Ben Childs and disappear, he’s got the money to do it. 

 

They didn’t even call on Ben’s 21st birthday. He got a text three days later from Costa Rica, and something arrived in the mail just last week - some kind of carving? Connor doesn’t fucking know. Maybe it’s something Ben would have liked but somehow, Connor’s not convinced. 

 

Anthony and Janine Childs don’t know their kid at all. 

 

They don’t even know he’s been dead for three years. 

 

Parenting isn’t easy, Connor can appreciate that. He’s seen first-hand how difficult it is, spending time with Gus and Seamus. That first summer they spent together was brutal - both of the twins were dealing with their own trauma and Seamus did his best to help them heal. It took a lot of time and patience and perseverance, but Connor knows it was for the best. These days Gus is mostly happy and healthy with his dog grooming business and his weekend hikes with Pampushka, and Connor is… 

 

Well, Connor’s as happy as he can be, given what’s been going on. He’s not amazing, but his baseline for happy is considerably higher these days, and he credits Seamus for that. 

 

(Speaking of Gus, he’d sent Connor a picture of Pampushka just last night, wearing an adorable bow tie on her collar. The texts that followed explained that Gus had a date with Handsome Fruit Man today, and was bringing Pampushka as an icebreaker, so she had to look nice. Connor had cracked up laughing at the photo of the impeccably groomed Samoyed and the realization that his twin was spending more time on his dog’s appearance to prepare for a date than his own.)

 

Connor realizes that the Murphy parents were doing the best that they could but not quite managing, and while he has regrets about the way he treated them, he can kind of understand what happened. He can forgive himself for some of the things he did, armed with the knowledge that he’s accepted his actions weren’t okay and that he’s making progress to prevent repeating them. 

 

But he can’t quite forgive himself for how he treated Zoe. 

 

He’s just trying to live with that regret. 

 

Knowing she’ll be in town… it’s tough. 

 

“Tell me about Hannah,” Connor says to Reed. 

 

Reed nods, and launches into an explanation of their lab partner’s intelligence, excellent work ethic and how she’s clearly absolutely besotted with Connor’s sister. It’s nice to hear, even if Connor’s never going to meet her. He just really, really wants Zoe to be happy, to be with someone who treats her well, to live a life that’s full and normal and for all the pain he’s caused her to be left in the past. 

 

Eventually Evan stirs and eats some more food, but he still looks exhausted, so Reed heads home and Connor guides a still drowsy Evan back to bed. He takes some time at his old bookshelf, picks out a couple of his favorites and climbs into bed next to Evan, turning on the bedside lamp to read quietly while Evan sleeps next to him. 

 

It’s cute and domestic and nice and Connor wishes it could always be like this. 

 

But he’s not that naive. 

 

* * *

 

When Evan gets to work on Wednesday, Hannah’s just arriving and seems happy to see him. They head to the main lab they work from, navigating the winding corridors. Evan offers to take Hannah’s bag and she just kind of laughs at him. 

 

“My big strong lesbian arms can handle this duffel bag just fine,” she says with a snort. “I guess I appreciate the chivalry though?” Evan goes bright red and goes to say something and Hannah seems to take pity on him. “Thank you for offering, it’s very nice of you.”

 

“How was your flight?” he asks, figuring it’s probably best to change the subject. 

 

“Pretty good,” says Hannah, brightening a little. “I got to fly business class. I’ve never flown business class before in my life, I kept thinking that they were going to immediately realize I was a fraud and try to kick me off the plane.”

 

Evan laughs. “I know that feeling so well.”

 

When they get into the lab, Kylie’s just come in and smiles at them. “Oh good,” she says. “You’re both here. There are bagels and coffee in my office for breakfast, let’s eat something before we get stuck in, yeah?”

 

Evan manages to choke down half a bagel and they get to work. Having Hannah physically in the lab is a whole different kind of energy, and Evan’s careful to make sure he’s putting on a brave face because he’s well aware she’s slightly concerned. He needs to be okay. He needs for her to think he’s okay. 

 

He keeps imagining her telling Zoe she thinks Evan’s losing his mind, and then Zoe will get worried and tell Evan’s mom, and Evan’s mom will drive here and drag him out of DYAD and back home to his childhood bedroom, and in amongst it all she’ll find out about the clones, and then DYAD will kill them both. 

 

He knows this isn’t a healthy thought process. 

 

He knows that he’s not going to get his mom murdered if he doesn’t keep up a brave face for Hannah while she’s here. 

 

Well, he thinks he does. His old therapist back home would say that it’s definitely true. But his old therapist doesn’t know that Evan works for an organization who is perfectly fine with keeping a clone in the basement with his skull sliced open. 

 

It’s probably a good thing he hasn’t got a therapist in this town yet. 

 

What the fuck would he even tell them?

 

The day goes past relatively quickly, and as they’re finishing up for the day, Hannah smiles at Evan. “Still on for dinner?” she asks. 

 

Evan had completely forgotten. “Yeah,” he assures her, hoping it’s not obvious that he hadn’t actually planned for it. “Do you, uh, want to get some takeout and hang out at my place? I’m kinda… I don’t really feel like going out and dealing with people if that’s alright.”

 

Hannah nods understandingly. “I’m with you on that one. I was kind of hoping we’d be on the same page here.” She smiles a little sheepishly. “People are hard sometimes.”

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

They get into Evan’s car and head downtown to pick up some takeout. After a brief discussion, they agree they’ll go with Indian. Evan remembers that Zoe was never a big fan, but Hannah admits that she loves it and hasn’t had it in ages because the smell makes Zoe nauseous. Evan insists on paying, which Hannah argues against, and then while they’re waiting for their food, Hannah pops out for some ‘fresh air’ and comes back having bought ice cream for dessert with a satisfied smile on her face. 

 

Hanging out with Hannah one on one is… different. Quieter. Calmer. Zoe’s always been the kind of person who fills up a room and Evan’s always felt content to kind of just be around her, knowing she’ll keep the conversation going and make everyone feel comfortable. Without the Zoe buffer, things have a different vibe, and it takes a while for it to feel less awkward but they get there eventually. 

 

It’s not that they’re awkward around each other, it’s just that they’re similar, and tend to let other people dominate the conversation. Once they realize that, it gets a little easier. 

 

Naturally, they talk shop. Evan’s a little intimidated by Hannah’s intelligence, to be perfectly honest. She’s quick to pick things up and put them together, she’s got a logical, orderly way of looking at things and she’s not quite as prone to leaps of weird association like Reed and (on rare occasions) Kylie. It’s closer to how Evan does things, but just… better, he thinks. She’s smarter than he is. She’s definitely smarter than he is. She should be the one working full time at DYAD. She should be the one in charge of curing the clones. 

 

After all, Hannah’s majoring in bio-engineering. That’s way more useful than Evan and his fucking plants. He’s out of his depth, he’s not smart enough, he’s not good enough, he’s not strong enough, it’s never going to work and he’s not even a proper human being anymore because there’s a clone being tortured in DYAD’s basement and he hasn’t lifted a finger to stop it -

 

“Evan, I need you to focus on your breathing,” Hannah says calmly. “You’re having a panic attack.”

 

He’s so fucking tired of this.

 

It’s like high school all over again. 

 

Every time his heart races and he struggles to breathe, it feels a bit like dying. 

 

He matches his breathing to Hannah’s no-nonsense counting and tries to hide the fact that he’s crying, because it’s too fucking embarrassing that his friend’s girlfriend is in his apartment and he’s falling apart because he’s an idiot monster who doesn’t deserve to be being talked through a panic attack. 

 

It takes too long to calm himself down. 

 

Too long. 

 

It’s getting longer and more painful and he’s exhausted. 

 

“Shall we have some ice cream?” Hannah says gently. 

 

“Yeah,” Evan says, a little breathless still. “Let me get some bowls-”

 

“I’ll find them,” Hannah says firmly. “You stay here, alright?”

 

Evan frowns. “You’re my guest-”

 

“Evan,” she says calmly. “I’m your friend. I got this.”

 

He curls up into himself on the sofa, trying to make himself small. Trying to make himself less. Eventually Hannah comes back with a glass of water and a bowl of ice cream. She hands him the water and the ice cream, then goes back to get her own, and Evan drinks the entire glass in one go. Hannah sits on the other side of the sofa cross-legged with her ice cream and looks at Evan. 

 

“I got panic attacks in high school a lot,” she confesses. “They’re not fun. Are you having them a lot?”

 

Evan wants to lie but finds himself unable to, for what’s probably the first time in his fucking miserable life. He nods. “Things have been stressful,” he admits. 

 

Hannah’s eyes are sympathetic. “It must be hard,” she says gently. “Doing all this DYAD work and having Ben so far away.”

 

Evan’s eyes widen a little. “Ben?” he says, stupidly, until it hits him that he gave Zoe the name when she called to demand why she’d had to hear about Evan’s new boyfriend from her mom of all people. Apparently his mom had coffee with Cynthia. He smiles. “Sorry, I… Zoe must have told you.”

 

“Long distance seems hard,” Hannah ventures. “He’s in New York, right?” She smiles a little. “I don’t think I could do it. Zoe’s just across the hall from me and sometimes even that feels too far away.” She winces. “Ugh. I can’t believe I just said that.”

 

“Do you want me to order you a U-Haul?” Evan teases. 

 

Hannah laughs and kind of swats his arm playfully. “Shut up.” She looks a little sad all of a sudden. “I’m sorry you’re… you just seem really stressed and I just… if there’s anything I can do to help at DYAD, just let me know.”

 

Evan’s overcome with the sudden urge to tell Hannah everything and pick her brain about the clone illness. 

 

But he holds back. 

 

Hannah’s too nice, too sweet and too good to have to deal with the horrors Evan now knows. 

 

He wouldn’t wish it on anyone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	68. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan gets a concussion and a visitor.

Reed gets a lift with Evan into DYAD on Thursday. Evan’s come armed with black coffee for them and looks… really fucking rough.

 

“Dude,” Reed says, taking the coffee cup. “You okay?”

 

Evan sighs tiredly. “Let’s just go to work.” He turns up the radio, effectively killing all hope of conversation.

 

Reed thinks about Connor’s insistence that something be done about the fact that Evan is working himself to the bone and vows to take some time to talk to Kylie today.

 

When they arrive at the lab, Hannah’s already there and Reed can see Evan panicking a little at the thought they might be late. “I got in early,” Hannah says before Reed can say anything. “I had a thought about somatic mutations overnight and wanted to run some tests.” She smiles. “There are some muffins in Kylie’s office and some coffee as well. She seems to be intent on feeding us.”

 

Kylie comes in at the tail end of what Hannah’s saying and grins. “It’s all part of my evil plan,” she says cheerfully. “Keeping my science minions well fed so we all have the strength to science another day.” She winks at Hannah and Hannah’s ears turn pink, which in turn makes Evan grin, which Reed is kind of grateful for.

 

It’s the last time they see Evan smile for the day. He gets stuck into some sequencing work and spends the next few hours frowning at a screen while Hannah and Reed occasionally exchange worried looks. When they can’t convince Evan to take a break for another cup of coffee, Reed and Hannah take one themselves and Hannah sighs the moment they’re out of Evan’s earshot.

 

“We had dinner last night and he had a panic attack,” Hannah confesses. “Is he okay? Is there something else going on? He’s running himself ragged over what’s supposed to be a theoretical project and I’m just… there’s something else going on with him, I think.”

 

“He’s got a lot on his plate,” Reed says carefully. “It’s… it’s not for me to tell, I’m sorry.”

 

Hannah turns pink. “I don’t mean to pry,” she says in a rush. “He just seems… look, I have an anxiety disorder and I know the signs and he’s… he’s not in good shape.” She looks at her coffee. “He and Zoe are close, maybe he’ll talk to her. I know he doesn’t really know me.”

 

There are alarm bells going off in Reed’s head and they remind themself to give Evan a head’s up that Zoe might start asking questions. They’re going to have to come up with an excuse but right now they’re drawing a total blank.

 

“I’m going to talk to Kylie,” Reed says honestly. “I think he maybe needs to go down to a 4 day week or something, he’s… he’s just not coping. He really wants to prove himself, you know?”

 

Hannah’s face shifts a little. Reed feels weirdly like they’ve hit a nerve. “I get that,” she says with a slow nod. “This place, this opportunity, the resources they’re throwing at us… it’s hard not to feel like you just… shouldn’t be here, you know? Like you’re not smart enough or driven enough and there’s no possible way they’ve let you come and work on shit like this and-”

 

“You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met,” Reed says firmly, because they’ve got to shut this line of thinking down. “There are things you’ve brought up that I wouldn’t have thought of in a million years. DYAD is lucky to have you and I’m lucky to be working with you. So don’t… don’t let yourself go down that path, okay?”

 

Hannah blushes but smiles. “I didn’t mean to make it about me-”

 

“You didn’t,” Reed insists. “It’s a normal thought.” They laugh, and gesture to their skinny jeans and corset over a peasant shirt combo. “Look at me. Do I look like a professional scientist to you? I completely get the feeling. I get tons of weird looks from people running around dressed like this. But I have as much of a right to be here as you do. As much as Evan does. We just need to remember that.”

 

“You’re a good person,” Hannah says warmly. “You’ll keep an eye on Evan, right?”

 

“Of course I will.”

The rest of the day goes by in a similar fashion, with Evan frantically working on something and Hannah occasionally sending him looks of concern. It all comes to a head when Evan stands up, trips over his shoelace, falls over, knocks his head against his desk and collapses in a heap on the floor.

 

Reed’s at his side in seconds, their heart in their throat.

 

Evan’s out cold for a full minute, but eventually comes to, groggy and dazed. Kylie’s face is white as a sheet and she helps him to a chair, then does a baseline concussion test.

 

“You need to go home,” she says firmly. “Is there someone who can stay with you overnight? I don’t want you left by yourself.”

 

“I have things to do,” Evan says weakly.

 

Kylie laughs humorlessly. “Sorry dude, not happening. You’re going home.” She looks at Reed, expression concerned. “You can stay with him if you need to.”

 

“I’ll call his boyfriend,” Reed says quietly. “He’s in New York but he should be able to get here in a few hours and stay overnight. He’ll be able to keep an eye on him tomorrow so I can come in.”

 

“I’ll get front desk to call you a cab home,” Kylie says, equally quietly. She looks at Hannah, who looks almost as shaken as Evan. “Hannah, can you just stay with Evan for a minute? I just want to talk to Reed in private for a moment.”

 

Hannah nods and kneels down so she’s at eye level with Evan, who looks very far away. Reed follows Kylie into her office and she looks at them, her expression grim.

 

“He’s overworked,” she says frankly. “I’m not an idiot. I know he’s working his ass off here.”

 

Reed sighs. “I wanted to talk to you about it.”

 

“I’m going to see what I can do about reducing his hours,” Kylie says, jaw clenching a little, “but you’re going to have to help me convince him that it’s okay for him to do that. He’s… he’s not going to like it, I can tell.”

 

“No, he’s not.”

 

Kylie rubs her temple briefly then looks at Reed again. “I’m going to do what I can,” she promises. “But you’re going to have to back me up.”

 

Reed nods. “I can do that.”

 

Kylie smiles a little. “Get him home safely, okay? And make sure that boyfriend of his doesn’t let him even _think_ about trying to come into work tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Connor definitely probably got some speeding tickets on the drive to Evan’s apartment but he doesn’t fucking care. When he finally gets there, Reed’s in the living room and Evan’s nowhere to be seen. Before he can fly into a complete fucking panic, Reed gets to their feet.

 

“He’s in bed,” Reed says soothingly. “I just woke him up to check on him, he’s lucid and responsive and knows who he is and all that shit. You’re going to need to wake him up again in 2 hours. Is that okay?”

 

“What the hell happened?” Connor hisses, trying very hard not to yell.

 

“He got up, tripped over his shoelace and hit his head on a desk,” Reed explains. “Kylie checked him over, she doesn’t think it’s serious enough to warrant a hospital visit, but doesn’t want him at work tomorrow.” They sigh. “So good luck keeping him home. Although to be fair, his car is still at DYAD.”

 

Connor takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “Fuck DYAD.”

 

Reed looks desperately unhappy. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m serious,” Connor says fiercely. “I’m getting him out of there. He’s not fucking going back there. Not if this is the kind of shit that’s going to happen-”

 

“It was an accident-”

 

“It’s not just that,” Connor replies heatedly. “You know it’s not just that. This is just… no, he’s fucking done with this. We’ll tell him we’ve got this Ivy person working on the cure, we’ll pull him out of there, he’ll go back to his environmental science degree and he’ll be done with this.”

 

“How do you think that conversation is going to go?” Reed asks, more reasonably than Connor probably deserves right now.

 

He’s freaking out. He knows he’s freaking out.

 

But it’s Evan.

 

Exhausted and overworked and with a fucking concussion and those haunted eyes every time Connor sees him, looking further and further away from himself.

 

“I don’t care,” Connor says. “He’s getting out of there. It’s just how it is.”

 

Reed shakes their head. “It’s got to be his decision, and you know it,” they say gently. “You can’t just… whisk him away and make it all better. And we… we need to find a cure for Torpedo and Lucas.”

 

Connor wants to punch something very, very badly. He settles for biting his lip, hard. So hard he tastes blood. “I don’t want to have to choose between them,” he manages to choke out finally. “I don’t want to have to choose between Torpedo dying and Evan losing his fucking mind.”

 

“I know,” Reed says simply. “I know you don’t. But you can’t just force him to leave. You can talk to him, you can try to make him see things your way, and I know you will. Just… please try to be gentle, okay? He’s…” Reed sighs, then shrugs on their jacket. “I’ll leave you to it. Call if you need me and just… try to be gentle with him. Please.”

 

Connor feels those last words like a slap to the face. “Of course,” he says, a little dazed, and watches Reed go. He flops down on the couch and pulls out his clone phone.

 

 _Private message to_ **_donutdog_ **

 

 **emochilds** : hey

 **emochilds** : you around?

 **donutdog** : hello connor

 **donutdog** : i am here

 **donutdog** : is all ok?

 **emochilds** : no

 **emochilds** : not really

 **emochilds** : evan has a concussion and I’m really worried

 **donutdog** : give moment

 **donutdog** : i look up word

 **donutdog** : this is not good

 **donutdog** : he is ok?

 **donutdog** : you are ok?

 **donutdog** : what can i do?

 **emochilds** : he’s okay, he’s just sleeping

 **emochilds** : i’ll check on him soon

 **emochilds** : i’m just

 **emochilds** : really worried about him

 **donutdog** : understand

 **donutdog** : he is your evan

 **donutdog** : you will worry even if there is no worry

 **donutdog** : this is how it is

 **emochilds** : he’s not been doing so good

 **emochilds** : lots of panic attacks

 **emochilds** : and he’s so tired

 **emochilds** : i’m so worried gus

 **donutdog** : evan is strong

 **donutdog** : and works hard

 **donutdog** : he does this because of love

 **donutdog** : and to find cure

 **emochilds** : he’s working too hard

 **donutdog** : you must make him rest

 **donutdog** : maybe holiday sometime

 **donutdog** : you can both visit

 **donutdog** : pampushka miss you

 **emochilds** : i miss her

 **emochilds** : and I miss you

 **emochilds** : and seamus

 **emochilds** : how is he?

 **donutdog** : he is here

 **donutdog** : he says he is good

 **emochilds** : how’s handsome fruit man

 **donutdog** : he is good

 **donutdog** : i call him handsome fruit man to face once by accident

 **donutdog** : am very embarrassed

 **donutdog** : so i tell him i will only call him ray

 **donutdog** : but he says that handsome fruit man is ok name

 **donutdog** : so now i think i call him

 **donutdog** : handsome fruit ray

 

Connor laughs, despite the general dark cloud hanging over him. Gus can always make him feel better.

 

 **emochilds** : lol

 **donutdog** : yes

 **donutdog** : much lol

 **emochilds** : but it’s good?

 **emochilds** : he’s nice to you?

 **donutdog** : he is very nice

 **donutdog** : we go hiking in weekend

 **donutdog** : with pampushka

 **donutdog** : it is as i imagine

 **donutdog** : and i am very happy

 **emochilds** : that’s great

 **emochilds** : you deserve to be happy

 **donutdog** : you do too

 **donutdog** : i am sorry evan is concussion

 **donutdog** : please tell him that i think of him

 **donutdog** : and pray for healing

 **donutdog** : and Pampushka will give him hug

 **emochilds** : thank you

 **emochilds** : really, thank you

 **donutdog** : be strong connor

 **donutdog** : much love to you

 **emochilds** : much love to you, too

 

Connor sets an alarm on his phone then turns on the television and watches Netflix mindlessly for a while. After 2 hours, the alarm goes off and he goes to wake Evan.

 

Evan jumps when Connor wakes him and his eyes are glazed over and so dark they look almost bruised. “Hey,” Connor says softly. “I just need to wake you up to check that you’re okay. You know who I am, right?”

 

“Connor,” he says immediately, kind of rolling his eyes. “Kind of unfair to make me recognize this face with a concussion, though.”

 

Connor tries to keep his tone light. “I’d hope that I’m the only clone in your bedroom.”

 

Evan laughs a little, then winces and looks at Connor, expression mournful. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly.

 

“For getting a concussion?”

 

“For making you drive down here to look after me.”

 

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he insists firmly. “I will always come whenever you need me. That’s not… that’s not even a question, I… I want to be there for you when you need me.”

 

Evan sits up and gently pulls Connor in for a kiss. The kiss deepens, Evan’s hands are everywhere and as much as Connor wants to get lost in him, he knows his boyfriend is in no shape for horizontal shenanigans right now. “Hey,” he says gently as he pulls away. “You’re recovering. Let’s not get carried away.”

 

Evan pouts, then winces again and goes to lie down. Connor puts another alarm on his phone, takes off his shoes and jeans and crawls into bed with Evan. Evan rolls over and wraps his arms around Connor, and Connor lets himself drift off to sleep to the sound of Evan’s snoring.

 

It’s a fitful night, as Connor has to wake Evan every few hours, and Connor doesn’t always manage to get back to sleep, though Evan always does. Connor can practically feel the exhaustion radiating from Evan and it’s heartbreaking and terrifying and it’s making Connor antsy, like there’s something crawling in his skin.

 

He does some reading and watches some more Netflix and checks on Evan and sleeps when he can. Evan finally properly wakes up sometime just after noon and immediately has a panic attack at the fact he’s missing work.

 

Connor’s heart is in the tiniest pieces when he sees it.

 

Once Evan’s calmed down, Connor pulls him in for a kiss. “This can’t go on,” he says simply. “We need to get you out of there.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Evan-”

 

“I can’t.” Evan sighs deeply. “And I can’t… I can’t argue with you about this.”

 

Connor takes a breath. “When we… that night we first kissed, you told me you’d do anything for me. If that’s really true, then leave DYAD.”

 

“That’s the only thing I won’t do,” Evan says firmly. “Not until there’s a cure.”

 

Connor doesn’t have the energy to get into this again. For the millionth time. “I’m going to order pizza,” he says instead and grabs out his phone.

 

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door and Connor opens it, expecting a pizza delivery.

 

His heart jumps into his throat as he realizes it isn’t pizza.

 

It’s Zoe.

 

Who looks like she’s just seen a ghost.

 

“... Connor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	69. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion.

Connor has absolutely no idea how he manages it. 

 

No idea in the slightest. 

 

But somehow, he extends his hand for a handshake, smiles and says in a voice he prays is steady, “You must be a friend of Evan’s. Nice to meet you, I’m Ben.”

 

Zoe just stares. There’s a pause, and then a laugh, and then she punches him.

 

Right in the face. 

 

“Do you honestly think I’m going to believe that?” she yells as Connor staggers backward. 

 

There’s an awkward throat clearing from behind them and an anxious looking pizza delivery boy. Connor swears, gives the guy a twenty and takes the pizza as Zoe storms into Evan’s apartment. 

 

Connor dimly recognizes his nose is bleeding but that’s the least of his problems, because the sister he hasn’t seen in three and a half years, the sister who thinks he’s dead is in his boyfriend’s apartment and has seen him and oh my god.

 

“Evan Hansen, I swear to fucking God you need to explain what the  _ everloving fuck _ is going on!” she yells at the top of her lungs. 

 

Connor puts down the pizza on the kitchen bench and absently wipes the blood off his face with his shirt sleeve. “He has a concussion. He doesn’t need you yelling at him.”

 

Zoe turns around, hair flying everywhere and gets right up in Connor’s face. “You  _ asshole.  _ You  _ complete and utter fucking asshole.  _ How dare you. How  _ dare _ you fake your own death.” She laughs completely humorlessly. “God, you must have really hated us. I always knew you did but I never realized just how much. Do you have any idea what you put Mom through? What you put _me_ through?”

 

“Zoe, hey,” says Evan, hurrying into the living room. He’s still in his pajamas, all messy hair and dark circles under his eyes and his shirt is slipping just a little and Zoe’s eyes fixate on his neck. 

 

Where there’s a hickey that still remains from the weekend. 

 

“How long have you know he was alive?” she demands. “How long?”

 

“You've got the wrong idea. This is… this is my boyfriend Ben,” Evan says, clearly desperately trying to make this all go away. “I guess he kind of looks like Connor but-”

 

“Bullshit,” Zoe snaps. “Complete and utter bullshit, how fucking stupid do you think I am?” She stares at him for a moment. “How long, Evan? Or have you always known? Have you always known he was alive and just… mourned with us in some kind of sick joke?”

 

“He’s known since October,” says Connor quietly. “He didn’t… he hasn’t always known.”

 

“And you didn’t tell me?” Zoe demands.

 

“What was I supposed to say?” Evan asks helplessly. “How do you even… how I even start that conversation?”

 

“‘Connor’s alive’ would have been a good launching point,” Zoe snaps. “But no, instead you just go right back to fucking him. Oh my god.”

 

Evan looks alarmed and Connor decides to just let that one go. “There’s a reason we didn’t tell you,” he says instead. “There’s a reason behind all of this.”

 

“I am all ears,” says Zoe curtly. “Please, explain why you faked your own death and broke Mom’s heart. This ought to be good.”

 

Connor can see Evan shaking and walks over to him and guides him to the sofa and sits him down. Zoe glares but doesn’t make a move to sit. Connor sighs and stands up. 

 

Doing this sitting down while Zoe towers over him is not something he can handle right now. 

 

“The night…” he takes a deep breath and continues. “The night I died, I was at the park and I met Ben Childs. He looked exactly like me and he’d just overdosed on a fuckton of sleeping pills. There was… there was nothing I could do. I was high and I’d… I’d come there to do the exact same thing, and he gave me his blazer and his phone and his bag and his keys and told me he didn’t want his life anymore. He told me to call someone called Torpedo. And then he died in front of me and I… I got in his car and drove to New Jersey and met Torpedo, and he looked exactly like me, too.” It all sounds so fucking ridiculous when he says it out loud. “Turns out we’re clones. Genetic identicals. It’s not just Ben and Torpedo and I, it’s… there are hundreds of us out there. All over the world.”

 

Zoe’s deadly silent for a long moment. 

 

And then all of a sudden, she’s not. 

 

“How fucking stupid do you think I am, Connor? After everything, the least you could do is tell me the fucking _truth_ , rather than make up some bullshit story about _clones._ Oh my god.”

 

“He’s not lying,” Evan says, standing up shakily. “That’s how I found out about this. I met another one of Connor’s clones. My friend Reed. They’re doing the internship at DYAD with Hannah.” 

 

“My girlfriend is doing an internship with a clone of my brother?” Zoe says incredulously. “Sure, Evan. Sure.” She fixes Evan with a harsh glare. “Why are you doing this? Why are you backing up this ridiculous story? You’re supposed to be my friend-”

 

“I am your friend!”

 

“You’re fucking my dead brother,” Zoe practically spits out. “You’re fucking my dead brother and you didn’t tell me he was alive and you’ve been lying to me for months and you’re _still_ lying to me! And I came over here to make sure you were _okay!_ Because I was _worried_ about you. Because my _girlfriend_ was worried about you.”

 

“This isn’t Evan’s fault,” Connor jumps in. Because Evan looks like he’s about to pass out. 

 

“You’re finally fucking right about something,” Zoe snaps. “This is your fault, Connor. You destroyed our family. You made us mourn you. You broke Mom’s heart, Dad was practically a zombie after you left, you made me… I’ve had to be that girl with the dead brother for the last three years, and I’ve had to be strong, and put up a brave face, and never let on that I’m struggling too because our parents are terrified of losing another child. And after everything you put us through you don’t even have the common decency of staying dead.”

 

The room is deadly silent for a long moment, and Connor dimly realizes that he’s crying. He can taste a mix of salt from his tears and blood from his nose and…

 

He wanted to see Zoe. 

 

But not like this. 

 

Not like this.

 

“I’m telling the truth,” he says, hating how petulant his voice sounds. “Do you want to see another clone? I’ll Skype one for you right fucking now.”

 

“Please, go ahead,” Zoe says with a broken laugh that’s more like a sob. “I’d love to see how far you’re willing to take this shit.”

 

“He’s telling the truth,” Evan says quietly. Zoe sends him a look of utter revulsion and he folds in on himself. 

 

Connor pulls his laptop out of his messenger bag and puts it on the kitchen bench, then logs onto Skype and calls Torpedo. 

 

The call connects almost instantly. 

 

“What’s up?” says Torpedo, sounding almost cheerful. “Everything okay?”

 

“I’m proving a point,” says Connor tersely. “Zoe, meet Torpedo.”

 

All the color drains from Torpedo’s face. “Connor, what the fuck.”

 

Zoe rolls her eyes and looks at the laptop screen, then freezes. She’s pale and shaky and keeps opening her mouth and closing it like she’s not sure what to say. 

 

“Torpedo, this is my sister Zoe,” Connor says. Part of him feels triumphant and the other part just…

 

He’s just fucking drained. 

 

No matter what happens, Zoe hates him. He’s ruined her life and he’s still fucking ruining it and…

 

He should have just died. 

 

“Connor, what’s going on?” Torpedo demands. He kind of waves at Zoe awkwardly. “Hi Zoe. I’m, uh… I’m Torpedo.”

 

“Your name is Torpedo?” she says faintly. 

 

“Actually, my name is Marvin, but everyone calls me Torpedo.”

 

“Why?” she asks, her voice and expression kind of lost. 

 

Torpedo shrugs. “I was eleven and I thought it sounded cool.”

 

“I wasn’t lying,” Connor says to Zoe, his voice almost pleading. “I wasn’t lying, and this… this whole clone thing is… it’s a secret. It has to be a secret. Once Ben died back home, I had to leave, I couldn’t… if they’d found his body and I was still alive, it could have exposed the whole thing, and I was stupid and I got caught up in it and once I realized what I was doing, it was too late and I… I couldn’t go back, I couldn’t.” He closes his eyes. “I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for any of you to find out. But then Evan met Reed and found out and now he’s involved and… we’re together and I… it fucking killed me, knowing you were friends with Evan and I couldn’t talk to you.” Connor laughs hollowly. “Do you remember when he called you just before Thanksgiving? I was there. I was there, listening to you talk and thinking about how much I fucking missed you and how much I regretted fucking up your life and-”

 

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Zoe says curtly, heading toward the door. Connor slams the laptop shut and follows her.

 

“You can’t tell anyone about this!” Connor pleads. “Please, Zoe. You can’t tell Mom or Dad or Hannah-”

 

“Don’t you dare talk about Hannah!” Zoe yells. “You don’t… you don’t get to talk about her, you don’t get to know about her, you…” 

 

They stare at each other for a long moment. 

 

It’s been three and a half years. 

 

Three and a half fucking years. 

 

Zoe is the first one to look away. She looks at Evan, still sitting on the sofa, shaking. “Evan. You should have told me,” Zoe says, firmly and slowly. She looks right at him, her face hard. “I will never forgive you for this.”

 

She slams the door behind her as she leaves. 

 

Evan’s shaking on the sofa and has a concussion and…

 

“You need to go after her,” Evan says frantically, trying to get to his feet but failing miserably. “She… we need to convince her that she can’t… she can’t tell anyone, it would ruin everything. It would ruin  _ everything,  _ Connor. If she tells Hannah, she’s going to put it together and DYAD will…”

 

Connor doesn’t hesitate. He heads out of the apartment as fast as he can, down the stairs and out onto the street. 

 

Zoe’s nowhere to be seen, but there’s a car driving away.

 

He thinks it must be an Uber or a cab or… or something. 

 

He’s about to head back into Evan’s apartment when he feels something sharp at the back of his neck. 

 

As he tumbles to the ground, he sees a figure walking towards him just as he loses consciousness. 

 

* * *

 

Connor hasn’t come back. 

 

He hasn’t come back and it’s been two hours. 

 

He’s left his phone and his keys and his laptop and everything at Evan’s apartment but he hasn’t come back. 

 

Evan’s driving himself crazy but he’s trying to keep calm. 

 

Connor’s talking to Zoe. That must be it. He’s talking to Zoe and they’re sorting things out and they’re connecting and they’ve lost track of time…

 

Evan very much doubts that’s what’s happening. 

 

There’s a frantic knock on the door, and he goes to open it, hoping like hell it’s Connor.

 

It’s not. It’s Zoe and Hannah, and Zoe’s on the warpath. 

 

“Where is he?” Zoe demands. “Where the fuck is he?”

 

“He went after you,” Evan says, feeling his stomach plummet to his feet. “He went after you to talk to you two hours ago and he hasn’t come back.”

 

Zoe snorts. “That’s so fucking typical. Just running away when things get rough.” She runs her hand through her hair irritably. 

 

“Are you okay?” Hannah asks Evan, frowning. “You’re shaking.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side on this!” Zoe exclaims. 

 

“I’m not taking his side,” Hannah retorts, her voice weary. “If what you’re saying is true, then he should have told you. I completely agree. But he’s recovering from a head injury, Zoe.”

 

“Connor’s just run off,” Zoe says, pacing. “But when he’s back, you can tell me if he has the exact same face as your lab partner. If this whole stupid story is true or if he’s just… made something up on the computer to fuck with me.”

 

“His keys are here,” Evan says, his voice shaky. “His keys are here and his wallet is here and his laptop is here and even his shoes are here, he just ran out of after you and… was there a red Prius parked outside when you arrived?”

 

“Yes,” says Hannah, frowning. “He left without his keys or his wallet or his shoes?” She looks at Zoe, her face alarmed. “That doesn’t… that doesn’t sound good, Zoe.”

 

“He’s constantly pulling shit like this,” Zoe replies stubbornly. “He’ll be here any moment.”

 

“Something’s wrong,” Evan says, pulling himself to his feet. “I have to go look for him, I have to-”

 

“You’re not fucking going anywhere,” Zoe snaps. “Not until someone tells me something that makes some goddamn sense.”

 

“Zoe, he’s-”

 

“I’m texting Reed,” Hannah says suddenly. “If Reed’s a clone, then Zoe will be able to tell straight away.”

 

“There’s no fucking way that’s possible,” says Zoe, shaking her head. “It’s not possible. Human cloning isn’t possible.”

 

“That’s not strictly true,” Hannah tells her. “It’s theoretically very possible.” Something seems to occur to her. “What we’re working on isn’t theoretical, is it, Evan? We’re working on an illness that the clones have. They’re sick and we’re trying to cure them.” Her eyes widen. “That’s why you’re freaking out over this so much. Because you’re in love with a clone and you’re afraid he’s going to get sick and die.”

 

“Yes,” Evan says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

 

Zoe stops in her tracks. “He’s going to die?” she says, her voice very small for a moment.

 

“He could,” Hannah says gently, “if DYAD doesn’t find a cure.”

 

Zoe shakes her head. “No. No, you can’t just… you can’t just clone a human being. This is nuts. This is… no.”

 

There’s a knock on the door, and Hannah goes to open it. It’s Reed, who goes pale when they see Hannah. They look like they’re about to try to leave, but Hannah grabs their arm and pulls them inside. 

 

“Reed, this is my girlfriend Zoe,” Hannah says, without preamble. “Connor’s sister.”

 

Reed turns even more pale. They look over at Evan. “What the fuck?”

 

“Zoe stopped by when Connor was here,” Evan says miserably. 

 

“What?” Reed frowns, looks at Zoe who’s visibly shaking, then turns back to Evan. “Where is he?”

 

“He left to go after her,” Evan says, feeling his heart beating faster. “Two hours ago. And he hasn’t come back.”

 

Reed’s starting to look as freaked out as Evan feels. “Shit,” they say, pacing. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

 

“You look exactly like him,” Zoe says, her voice far away. “Exactly like him, except that he wouldn’t be caught dead in that outfit.”

 

Reed tries to smile but instead looks at Evan. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Been better,” Evan replies curtly.

 

Zoe takes a step toward Reed, who goes deadly still. There’s a look of deep, deep sadness on their face as Zoe reaches out and touches their hair. “This isn’t real,” she says, still in that dazed, far away voice. “This isn’t real at all. I must be… I’m losing my mind.” She laughs a little. “I’m losing my mind.”

 

“This is real,” says Hannah, moving closer to Zoe and taking her hand. “Babe. This is real. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it is.”

 

“Connor’s alive.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“My brother’s alive.”

 

Evan’s phone rings. 

 

He answers the call without even bothering to check which phone it is he’s answering. “Hello?”

 

“Mr. Hansen,” says a crisp British accent. “Dominic Morgan speaking. I’m aware you’re off unwell today, but I’m afraid I’ll need you to come down to DYAD straight away.” There’s a pause and Evan feels his heart speeding out of control. “It’s about Connor Murphy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	70. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor, Torpedo and Lucas hang out.

Torpedo’s basement might actually be Connor’s favorite place in the world these days. 

 

Torpedo’s mom is out of town again for the weekend, so Connor’s taking a break from the city to hang out with his clone and smoke weed and play video games and eat chocolate chip cookies and it’s the closest to heaven he’s probably going to get. 

 

Connor thinks sometimes what it would have been like to have a friend like Torpedo growing up. He thinks it might have saved him. Just a bit. 

 

Torpedo knows he’s an asshole who gets angry about dumb shit and makes terrible decisions and flies off the handle and is a total fucking dumbass, and he calls him on his shit all the fucking time, but he doesn’t just… leave. Or ignore him, or call him a freak, or give up on him. Torpedo’s just… always there. 

 

Connor thinks about how different his life has become since he… died. It’s been a rollercoaster ride of horror and confusion and total utter bullshit, but there’s also been kindness and understanding and dumb jokes and people who actually give a shit about his well-being. 

 

It’s been a mess. A total mess. 

 

He’s fumbled his way through being a completely different person. He’s had to deal with Guy and his obnoxious French trainwrecking, and Gus nearly killed him, and he’s never going to stop dreaming about Ben Childs on a park bench in his hometown, seizing and dying in front of him.

 

But there’s also been Reed and their vegan soup and calming words, painting his nails and patiently helping Connor find himself in the mess. Seamus and his open, unfiltered emotion and fierce protectiveness, who spent years searching for his lost boys and had to deal with finding them broken in different ways. Gus and his soft, tender heart, slowly coming to the surface from under layers and layers of hurt and torture and pain and brainwashing. Even Lucas and his assholery still has those moments where he genuinely seems to fucking care. 

 

And of course, among it all, there’s Torpedo and his basement sanctuary. 

 

Connor is really, really fucking grateful for Torpedo. 

 

He thinks he might have saved him. 

 

March has rolled around and it’s still fucking cold, so Torpedo’s got the heater on blast and he’s wearing a beanie and is kicking Connor’s ass at something involving a first-person shooter, he doesn’t really know because he’s buzzed, but he’s come armed with a bag full of Torpedo-appropriate snacks which is clone is just chowing down on. 

 

Torpedo’s taste buds are pretty much radioactive and he’s constantly eating shit like Doritos and plastic cheese and drinking Mountain Dew and it’s the kind of shit Connor’s mom would never have allowed in the house, so at first he’s into it on principle, but then actually realizes that… well, it’s disgusting. So Connor’s gotten into the habit of buying a bunch of awful shit for his clone and sticking with pizza and M&Ms for himself. 

 

The guy at the pizza shop around the corner from Torpedo’s house has gotten super used to Connor dropping in and pretending to be Torpedo. So much that Torpedo admitted that when he went around the other day, the pizza guy actually said he’d forgotten Torpedo sometimes wore glasses. 

 

It’s nearly three in the morning when the sliding door to Torpedo’s basement room opens. Torpedo and Connor look each other in alarm, then to the door as a red-faced Lucas walks in, carrying a canvas bag that’s clinking suspiciously. 

 

“Dude,” Torpedo says, frowning. “Lucas. What’s going on?”

 

“I raided my parents' liquor cabinet,” he says, determinedly walking across the room and positioning himself in between Connor and Torpedo. “I’m not an idiot, I’m not going to drink at home, but I’ll drink here. You said your mom was out of town for the weekend.” He opens the bag, then hands Connor a bottle of whiskey and Torpedo a bottle of what looks like scotch. “Drinking alone sucks. Let’s get lit.”

 

Connor opens the bottle of whiskey, shrugs and takes a sip. He knows fuck all about whiskey but it’s obvious this isn’t the cheap stuff. He decides he likes it.

 

“It’s three in the morning,” Torpedo says, frowning. “Lucas, what’s going on?”

 

“My dad’s an asshole,” Lucas says, pulling out a bottle of bourbon for himself and taking a long swig. He grimaces, then smiles humorlessly and has another drink. 

 

“Hear hear,” says Connor, holding up his bottle in solidarity. Lucas clinks it, and they both drink some more. 

 

“My dad is also an asshole,” Torpedo says, voice a little dubious, “but I’m going to need a better reason than that to get trolleyed at 3 am on a Saturday morning.”

 

“Since when does anyone need a reason to get trolleyed at 3 am on a Saturday morning?” Connor asks with a shrug. He turns to Lucas. “But actually, yeah, I’m super curious. What’s going on?”

 

“I made the under 21 national team for soccer,” Lucas says, his tone darker than Connor’s ever heard it. “I worked my ass off. I’ve been training non-stop and still getting good grades and I’ve been accepted into business school but the under 21 national soccer team… that’s huge, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And my dad said he’d cut me off if I accepted the position.”

 

Torpedo’s face falls. “Shit. Lucas. Fuck, I’m so sorry. You… you’ve been working so hard.”

 

“He’s going to fucking disown me if I don’t go to business school and completely drop soccer,” Lucas says miserably, before having another drink. “He doesn’t even want me to play socially anymore. Or the under 6 teaching I’ve been helping out with. He says it’s gone on far enough and he’s indulged this childish dream but now I’m 18 and have to focus on my future.”

 

“That’s such bullshit,” Connor says, starting to feel irrationally angry. He’s pissed about this. He’s super pissed. “You work hard. You get good grades, you got into business school… he should be proud that you’ve got dreams and ambitions.” He snorts a little. “My dad would have killed for a kid like you. He got stuck with me and my slacker stoner ass.”

 

“Exactly,” says Lucas. “You’re a mess.”

 

“Wow, fuck you.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Eh, you’re not wrong.”

 

“I’m really sorry,” says Torpedo. Connor remembers he’s not much of a drinker, but he bravely has a sip, then makes a face, then grabs a dimebag from his pocket and starts rolling up a joint. He gets it started, then offers it to Lucas. “I know it’s not your usual thing, but it might help.”

 

Lucas takes the joint without hesitation, and Connor fumbles around in his bag for a bottle of water, because if his clone isn’t usually a smoker he’s probably going to need it. He’s proven right when Lucas immediately starts coughing. Connor hands him the water bottle and kind of half smiles sympathetically.

 

“Sorry to just show up,” says Lucas once he’s finished coughing. He looks a little pathetic. “I just… I was really upset, and I remember you’d said Connor was hanging out with you this weekend, so…”

 

“We’re glad you’re here,” Connor says, and surprisingly actually fucking means it. “I’m sorry your dad is such an asshole.”

 

Lucas takes another hit of the joint, then passes it to Connor, who takes a hit himself. Connor passes it to Torpedo and frowns a little as Lucas takes a very long swig of bourbon. 

 

“I’m gonna get more chocolate chip cookies from upstairs,” Torpedo says finally. “And maybe make some grilled cheese. I could totally go for grilled cheese.”

 

The next few hours pass in a blur of weed, booze, grilled cheese and old SNL clips, and Connor drifts off to sleep just as the sun starts rising. When he wakes up, Lucas is awake and he’s drinking again. 

 

He’s finished at least an entire bottle of bourbon and Connor’s not stupid enough to let the idea drink himself into a coma. He takes the whiskey off him and Lucas tries to grab it back, but just… falls off the couch. 

 

Then Lucas’s phone rings. He answers it, voice slurred. “Heeyyyyyyy Donna.”

 

Connor makes a split second decision and takes the phone from him. Their voices sound similar enough. He can save his clone some embarrassment. 

 

“Are you drunk?” comes an unfamiliar but definitely female voice from the other end of the line. 

 

“Just tired,” Connor says, trying to keep his voice even. “I, uh, I hung out with some friends last night.”

 

“I just wanted to check in,” says Donna, and Connor can hear the sympathy in her voice. “I’m so sorry about your dad. He’s such an asshole.” She sighs. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

 

“Dinner?” Connor repeats stupidly. 

 

“Dinner with your parents,” Donna says, a little cautiously. “I know you don’t want to but your dad… I feel like if we skip this, he’s just going to make more trouble for you. And I’ll be there the whole time. Just… keep quiet and don’t snap at him and get through this.” She sighs a little. “Babe, I’m so, so, so sorry. This was your dream and… you deserve to have it and it’s not fucking fair and… have you considered just doing it and seeing what happens? My parents would take you in if they kicked you out. You know that. You’d have to get used to shitty water pressure, but… Lucas. It’s your dream.”

 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Connor says quietly. “What, uh, what time was it again?”

 

“Six,” says Donna, her voice very sad. “You’re not doing so great, huh.”

 

“I have a cold,” Connor lies. “Cherry on top of the sundae of shit I’ve been dealt.”

 

Donna barks out a laugh, as if she’s not expecting him to swear. “Whoa, you’re colorful when you’re pissed off. You’re picking me up, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Connor assures her. 

 

“Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.” It feels totally weird and awkward. 

 

He checks to make sure Lucas is still breathing, and Torpedo seems to have woken up as well. He just looks at Connor, a little quizzical. 

 

“Apparently Lucas is having dinner with his parents tonight,” Connor says. “And his girlfriend. That’s going to be fun.”

 

“When?” Torpedo asks. 

 

“Just before six.”

 

Torpedo looks alarmed. “It’s a three and a half hour drive,” he says slowly. “And it’s already one.” He looks at Lucas, who’s completely passed out. “He’s not going to sober up in time to get there.” Then he looks at Connor. 

 

Connor’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Nope,” he says firmly. “Nope, nope, nope, I’m not doing that.”

 

“You’d need to get a haircut.”

 

Connor just keeps shaking his head. “Nope.”

 

“You need a haircut anyway, it’s getting kind of long.”

 

“That’s the fucking point. I’m not doing it. You do it.”

 

Torpedo shakes his head. “I don’t drive, dude.”

 

“I’m not…” Connor trails off, and looks at his passed out clone. He kicks him gently and he kind of moans a bit. “Lucas. Lucas, get up.”

 

Lucas stirs, but is still clearly very, very drunk. “What’s going on?” he slurs.

 

“We have to sober you up so you can get to dinner with your dad,” Connor says firmly.

 

“Fuck my dad.”

 

“Totally get the sentiment. But you gotta get up, dude.”

 

Lucas’s response is to puke all over Connor’s shoes. 

 

“Fucking hell,” says Torpedo, going to get something to clean things up. Connor just glares at Lucas for a while, then sighs. 

 

“Lucas. If you don’t sober up your drunk ass, I’m going to have to fucking be you. And no one wants that.”

 

“I don’t care,” Lucas mumbles. “My dad’s a dick. Go for gold. Give him what for.”

 

“If I have to be you, I’ll probably have to kiss your girlfriend,” Connor tries. “Right on the mouth.”

 

“You’re gay as fuck, it doesn’t count.”

 

“Jesus fuck Lucas, don’t make me do this. I can’t do this.”

 

Lucas pukes again, and Connor manages to step back to avoid it this time. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. 

 

Then he wipes the puke off his shoes and goes around the corner to the barber to get a fucking haircut. 

 

Because he’s an idiot who all of a sudden gives a shit. 

 

Jesus fucking Christ.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	71. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets Dominic.

Reed can only stare as Evan shakily looks at his phone. His eyes are wide and he’s gasping for air and - 

 

“DYAD have Connor.”

 

Reed’s legs aren’t going to support them anymore. They sit down as quickly as they can on the sofa and take in a deep breath. 

 

“They want me to come in and talk about it,” Evan continues, his voice shaky. “I… I have to go, I have to...” He disappears into his bedroom and Hannah sits down next to Reed. 

 

“You all work for DYAD,” Zoe says, crossing her arms. “Why is this… what’s going on, why is Evan so freaked out about this?”

 

“DYAD is supposed to think Connor’s dead, too,” Reed manages to say. They feel like they’re drowning. This is everything they’ve ever feared and it’s coming true and they can’t…

 

“They think he’s Ben, maybe?” Hannah ventures. “Ben’s the name he’s going by, right? Gotta be another clone.” She shoots a sorrowful look at Zoe. “It could be… Ben could be the one your family buried.”

 

Zoe laughs suddenly. It’s utterly without humor. “Well, we’ve finally got a logical explanation for that fucking haircut.”

 

Evan comes back into the living room. He’s fully dressed and frantic, muttering something about his keys. 

 

“Your car’s still at DYAD, Evan,” Hannah reminds him. 

 

“I’ll take Connor’s,” he says, opening a black messenger bag on the kitchen table.

 

“No,” Hannah says firmly. “You can’t take his car, they’re probably… they’re probably tracking it.”

 

Zoe’s staring at Hannah, her expression a mixture of amazement and incredulity. “What the actual fuck?”

 

“I signed that confidentiality agreement,” Hannah says, pulling out her phone. “It was intense. That should be a sign of what DYAD is capable of. I’m ordering you an Uber.”

 

“Thank you,” Evan says softly. 

 

Hannah looks very, very concerned. “Do you want me to come-”

 

“No!” both Zoe and Evan yell in unison. 

 

“If they’re as dangerous as you’re making them out to be then you’re not going anywhere fucking near them,” Zoe says firmly. 

 

“I’m not dragging you into this,” Evan says, equally firm. “You’re… you’ve got plausible deniability right now. At least for a while. The less you’re involved, the better.”

 

“I’m calling Torpedo,” Reed says suddenly. They’ve been watching this all happen, utterly passive, trying to make sense of it but they’ve got to fucking do something. They stand up, pick up Connor’s laptop from the kitchen table and put it on the coffee table. As they open it, they see that Skype is still open and even though the call has disconnected, Torpedo is still online. 

 

So, remarkably, is Lucas. 

 

Reed starts a conference call. 

 

Torpedo looks annoyed when the call connects. “Connor, what the fuck, why aren’t you answering your…” he stops in his tracks when he sees Reed. “Reed. Where’s Connor?”

 

“He’s with DYAD,” Reed says in a rush. “They just called Evan… they have him.”

 

“They what?” Lucas says, his voice full of terror. 

 

“Holy shit,” says Torpedo, voice shaking. “Holy fucking shit, this is… holy shit.”

 

“Three of them,” Zoe says, her voice full of disbelief. “There are fucking three of them.”

 

Lucas frowns. “Who’s this?”

 

Torpedo sighs. “Connor’s sister.”

 

“Zoe?” Lucas says, eyes widening even more. “Jesus Christ.”

 

“You know about me?” Zoe asks, her voice small.

 

Lucas kind of smiles, but it’s more like a grimace. “I’ve known Connor for three and a half years now. Of course I know about you.” He frowns a little. “And who’s that?”

 

Reed dimly realizes that Hannah’s taken the seat beside them. She waves a little. “I’m Hannah,” she says. 

 

Torpedo blinks. “Drummer Hannah who works for DYAD? Holy shit.”

 

“So I guess you know all about my life then,” Zoe says, her tone turning icy. “Funny, because I know nothing about you assholes except you all have my brothers face.”

 

“No offense,” says Torpedo tersely, “but that’s kind of the point. Reed, what’s going on? How do we get Connor out of there?”

 

Reed hears the door slam and realizes Evan’s just left without a word. “Evan’s going to DYAD now,” they say. “He… he should be able to tell us what’s going on.”

 

Lucas’s expression goes dark. “That’s if he wasn’t in on the whole thing.”

 

“Lucas, that’s not fair,” Torpedo says unhappily. “We know Evan. He loves Connor, he wouldn’t do that.”

 

“He didn’t do this,” Reed agrees. “He’s… he’s devastated.”

 

“How are we getting him out?” Lucas asks, folding his arms defensively. “How are we getting Connor out? We’re not… we’re not leaving him there.”

 

“Gus,” Reed says suddenly. “We should call Gus. He’ll…” they trail off, not wanting to say anything negative about Connor’s twin in front of Hannah and Reed. “He’s resourceful.”

 

Lucas snorts and Torpedo frowns. “Is it really fair to ask him to-”

 

“For Connor?” Reed interrupts. “Gus will do it. You know he will. And Seamus has contacts and… he could help us. We’re not equipped to deal with this ourselves, we need them.”

 

“Who’s Seamus?” Zoe demands. “Who’s Gus?”

 

The three clones are quiet for a moment, then Reed turns to Zoe and explains gently. “Gus is another one of us,” they say quietly. “He’s… he’s Connor’s twin.”

 

“Not just his clone?” Hannah asks, her tone curious. “That’s interesting. I wonder if that’s affected them biologically in any other way. Being twins as well as clones.”

 

“Connor has a twin?” Zoe asks. “What the actual fuck?”

 

“Because a twin is so much less believable than being a clone,” says Lucas sarcastically. Zoe glares at him and he looks away. 

 

“I’ll call him,” Reed says curtly. “In the meantime… I guess we wait for Evan.”

 

“I don’t trust him,” Lucas says firmly. “It’s his fault Connor’s there.”

 

“Lucas-”

 

“It is!” Lucas practically yells. “Connor’s managed to evade DYAD for three and a half years then all of a sudden, they recruit Evan Hansen and suddenly he’s in the thick of it and now he’s been taken. If it weren’t for Evan, none of this would have happened.”

 

“If it weren’t for Evan, none of us would have known about the clone illness,” Reed snaps back. “He didn’t have to tell us when DYAD recruited him to be my monitor. He didn’t have to but he did, and it was a huge personal risk to him and it’s… it’s affected him more than you guys can possibly know.”

 

“We would have found out about the clone illness eventually,” Lucas replies stubbornly. “Torpedo knew.”

 

“And didn’t tell us for a year,” Reed counters. 

 

Torpedo looks guilty. “That’s beside the point,” he says, clearly trying to keep himself calm. “Reed, do you want to call Gus or shall I?”

 

“I’ll do it,” Reed says. “I know him a bit better. Just… hold tight, okay? Try not to panic.”

 

“I’m way past panicking,” Lucas snaps. “Connor’s with DYAD. Don’t you get how bad that is? What are they going to do to him? Are they going to experiment on him? Lock him away in their basement like that clone they found in Argentina? 

 

“There’s a clone in DYAD’s basement?” Hannah asks, clearly concerned. 

 

“We don’t know for sure,” Reed says, as calmly as they can manage.

 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “I’m sure Evan does.”

 

Reed doesn’t reply, but they can’t bring themself to disagree, either. 

 

* * *

 

The first thing Connor sees when he comes to is white. 

 

Bright, white lights. Blinding and harsh. 

 

His head is spinning and he’s woozy and he’s dizzy. 

 

He squints and moves, only to find his hands are restrained. His eyes pop open wide despite the light and he looks around to see he’s strapped to some kind of chair, like something you’d find in a dentist’s office. There’s an IV in his arm and he pulls as much as he can, hoping he’s able to yank it out. 

 

Hoping he’s able to get free. 

 

“Good evening, Mr. Murphy.”

 

He can’t see where the voice is coming from. It’s crisp and British and sounds almost amused at the situation. “Who the fuck is it?” he yells. “Don’t give me this disembodied voice shit, show me your face.”

 

“Why would I do that?” says the voice, sounding even more amused now. “It’s not a face you’re unfamiliar with, after all. My name is Dominic Morgan. Do you know where you are, Mr. Murphy?”

 

“On the fucking beach in the Mediterranean, clearly.”

 

“How amusing,” says the voice dryly. “You’re not stupid, Mr. Murphy. None of us are. We were all too well engineered for that. You must be aware by now that you’re in the custody of the DYAD Institute.”

 

“I’d rather be in Spain,” he shoots back. “I bet you agree,  _ Dom.  _ What say we blow this joint and go sunbathing?”

 

“I’m afraid you don’t seem to have grasped the reality of your situation,” says Dominic, his tone mild. “We’ve been watching you and Mr. Hansen for some time, Mr. Murphy. I realize you’ve been trying to be subtle, but unfortunately, love seems to have blinded you.” He chuckles a little. “You do love him, don’t you?”

 

“That’s none of your goddamn business.”

 

“He’s a hard worker,” the voice continues. “Diligent. Always wanting to prove himself. And he desperately wants to find a cure to the clone illness.” There’s a small laugh. “At first, we thought he was romantically involved with Mr. Albrecht, but then we watched him a little closer and found him in the company of the clone we assumed was Ben Childs.”

 

Connor’s heart is thumping in his chest. “So how’d you figure that all out, then? Go ahead. I’m dying for a supervillain monologue. It’ll just make this whole ‘strapped to a chair and listening to a disembodied voice’ thing so much more cinematic.”

 

“We only just confirmed that today, actually,” says Dominic. “We took a blood sample while you were unconscious and isolated the genetic marker that tells the clones apart. And determined that you’re not subject 094J21 - you’re actually subject 887R95-A. One of the twins. The only set of twins we had in this entire experiment, actually. And that… well, that’s too good an opportunity to pass up. Connor Murphy, back from the dead.” Connor can practically hear the smirk as he continues. “Your father will be so thrilled.”

 

“My father?” Connor repeats, not sure he really understands what he’s hearing. 

 

“I’ve dealt with Larry Murphy in the past, of course.” Connor really, really wants to punch this guy. “He’s made some errors, of course. Having the dead body of what he thought was his son cremated without bringing it into the Institute was a cause of concern, as we could have used that data. And now you’re alive. It raises the question - did he help you disappear?”

 

“He didn’t,” Connor says firmly. “He hated me. He didn’t have anything to do with it.”

 

His head is spinning. 

 

Larry has met one of his clones. 

 

Larry knows he’s a clone. 

 

Larry had Ben’s body cremated.

 

Has Larry known this whole time?

 

“Of course, that’s not even close to the most interesting thing about you, Mr. Murphy,” says Dominic, his tone almost cheerful. “What’s really interesting is that when you came in here a few hours ago, you had 2 black eyes and a bruised nose. Both of which have healed remarkably, right in front of our eyes. Which implies that you’re different from the rest of us. And that’s something we’re going to have to explore.”

 

Connor thinks about being fourteen years old and almost dying on the floor of his bathroom. 

 

And his father’s insistence that he was overreacting when there was no sign of injury on his wrists the next day. 

 

He thinks about cutting open his hand cutting peppers and there only being a faint line the next morning. 

 

He thinks about Gus’s back, pristine and unmarked after years and years and years of self-harm. 

 

He thinks about…

 

No, he’s still not going to think about that. 

 

Healing. 

 

He can heal. 

 

That’s why every time he tried to hurt himself, it never left a scar. 

 

That’s why Evan freaked out when he saw it for himself. 

 

That’s why…

 

Is that why Larry never took him to the hospital after his suicide attempt?

 

Is that why he never even talked to Connor about it?

 

Maybe he knew that Connor could heal. 

 

Maybe he knew there was something different about Connor, something that set him apart from the rest of the clones. 

 

Maybe that’s why he got Ben’s body cremated. 

 

Not because he didn’t think that the body was Connor. 

 

But because he knew that if they did an autopsy, they might find out that Connor had been different the whole time. 

 

And so is Gus. 

 

Because they’re twins, so is Gus. 

 

Connor’s blood runs cold. 

 

They can’t find out about Gus. 

 

They absolutely, one hundred percent cannot find out about Gus. 

 

“So you’re cutting me open then?” Connor says, trying to keep his tone light. “Have fun with that. If I heal like you say I do, then it’s going to be a bit fucking pointless, huh?”

 

“Not at all, Mr. Murphy. There’s a lot we can learn from your biology. A lot we can test and try. For example… what would happen if we removed one of your body parts? Would it grow back? Can we synthesize your healing ability to cure your brothers? Can we synthesize your healing ability to cure cancer? There’s a world of possibilities to explore, Mr. Murphy. What’s in your blood… it could save the world. It could change the world, rewrite medicine as we know it.” There’s a laugh. “Isn’t that a small price to play for never seeing the outside of this room again?”

 

There’s a muffled noise, and then Dominic laughs a little. “I’ve just been informed that your boyfriend has arrived! I’ll be sure to send him your love. And before you ask - no, you can’t see him. If he’s lucky, I might let him see you. Preferably when you’re being sliced open. For the drama of it all.”

 

“I don’t give a shit what you do to me,” Connor snaps, “but if you hurt him I’ll-”

 

“You’ll what? Yell obscenities at me from the chair you’re strapped to?” Dominic laughs again. “You really haven’t grasped the reality of your situation, have you Mr. Murphy?”

 

“Did you take a Bond villain correspondence course or something?” Connor snaps. “Because if so, you should get your money back because you’re boring the fuck out of me.”

 

Dominic laughs again. “I do enjoy our talks. I’ll be speaking with you again soon. Try not to miss me too much.”

 

Connor tugs at his restraints and screams at the empty room at the top of his lungs. He’s not sure what he’s screaming at first, but eventually he realizes it’s his boyfriend’s name.   
  
  


* * *

 

Torpedo’s just got off the Skype call, heart pounding, when there’s a knock on his door. “Sweetie,” he hears his mom’s voice call. “Can you come upstairs for a moment?”

 

“Give me a second,” he yells back, then takes a moment to collect himself. 

 

He’s freaking out. 

 

He’s freaking the fuck out. 

 

Connor’s in danger. 

 

Connor’s with DYAD and there’s nothing Torpedo can do but wait. 

 

He manages to get his breathing under control, then heads upstairs, where his mom is waiting. Her face is pale, but her expression is controlled. “There’s someone I need you to meet,” she says, gesturing for him to follow her into the living room. 

 

His heart stops for the second time that day as he sees a clone sitting on the sofa in the living room. He’s got short hair with a bit of a curl and thin, wire-framed glasses. He stands up as he sees Torpedo and smiles a little awkwardly. 

 

“Hey Torpedo,” he says, his accent British and upper class. “Good to finally meet you. My name’s Charles Booth, but you’d probably know me as Beanpole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	72. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torpedo and Beanpole talk. DYAD has more in store.

Torpedo looks at his mother. Her arms are crossed and she looks… freaked out, but otherwise unruffled. “You knew?” he says, completely confused. 

 

“I only just found out,” says Jenny, frowning a little. “I was investigating a group called the DYAD Institute and Charles here contacted me. When he said he wanted to meet in person, I agreed, and when I saw his face… well, he explained everything.”

 

Torpedo lets out a breath. “I’ve wanted to tell you for years,” he says in a rush. “I… I’ve wanted to tell you for so many years, but I just…”

 

Jenny smiles, a little sad. “Sweetheart, I get it. This isn’t… this isn’t some stupid teenage secret you’re keeping from your lame mom, this is… this is huge. I… Charles has told me about the dangers and what DYAD’s been doing. He’s part of an organization looking to expose them. Destroy them from the inside. He thinks I can help.”

 

Torpedo shakes his head firmly. “No. No, you’re not getting involved. It’s dangerous, it’s-”

 

“I’m your mother,” Jenny shoots back. “This affects you, so it affects me.” 

 

“There’s just… so much going on,” Torpedo tries to explain. “One of us… one of my clones has been taken by DYAD.”

 

“Which one?” Beanpole asks, clearly concerned. 

 

Torpedo sighs. “Connor Murphy.”

 

Beanpole looks confused. “He’s dead.”

 

“No, he’s not. Ben Childs is dead.”

 

Beanpole seems to click. “Connor’s been living as Ben?”

 

“Since senior year of high school.”

 

There’s a weak chuckle. “Okay, that explains… a lot.” He frowns. “So Evan’s… Evan knows he isn’t Ben?”

 

“Evan’s always known,” Torpedo explains. Then he kind of absorbs the question. “Wait, you know Evan?”

 

“He’s part of the Ethical Science Movement,” Beanpole says. “Destroying DYAD from the inside, as soon as we find the cure.” He frowns. “This… I need to get in touch with one of my contacts about this. Find out what’s happening. What the fallout is going to be. Evan’s… we can’t predict how he’ll react to this and what that means for the ESM.”

 

“So he’s part of a secret organization within a secret organization?” Torpedo asks, feeling his head start to ache. “Jesus Christ. No wonder he’s looked so exhausted.”

 

“Speaking of looking exhausted,” says Jenny, her tone cautious. “Charles said something about an illness. An illness all the clones are susceptible to. And you… you’ve been looking so tired and run down recently, it makes me think-”

 

“I’m fine,” Torpedo interrupts. His mom does not need this right now. 

 

Beanpole looks at him and shakes his head. “No you’re not.”

 

Torpedo tries to argue, he really does. As he opens his mouth, he’s overwhelmed by a wave of nausea, and the last thing he remembers before he blacks out is his mother’s terrified face.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sure you realize what a serious breach of conduct this is, Mr. Hansen. Dating a subject. Not alerting the institute. And of course, the fact that we all thought this clone was dead. Usually this kind of breach would result in your immediate termination, but you’ve been doing some exceptional work here so we’re willing to give you another chance.”

 

Evan can barely focus on what’s being said. He should be terrified, stuck in a room with Veronica Harding and Dominic Morgan, who are both intimidating on their own but are absolutely overwhelming together. 

 

But all he can think about is Connor.

 

And the fact that he's somewhere in this building. 

Suffering through god knows what. 

 

“Is he alright?” he manages to choke out.

 

“He’s quite alright,” says Dominic mildly. “Somewhat vulgar, but physically unharmed. For now, that is.”

 

“What are you going to do with him?”

 

“Study him,” Veronica informs him, her voice deceptively pleasant. “There’s something quite different about subject 887R95-A. Were you aware that he has regenerative abilities?”

 

Evan’s heart is pounding faster than he’s ever felt it before. Regenerative abilities. The cut on his hand, healing overnight. 

 

No. No, no, no, no, no. 

 

Evan shakes his head furiously. “No. I didn’t know that. What does… what does that mean for him?”

 

“It means he could be the cure,” says Dominic, sounding almost excited. “Not just for the clone illness, but for so many other things. I understand you have an emotional attachment to him but as a scientist, you have to understand the potential here. What we could learn from his DNA. We’ll need to test how far his regeneration abilities go.”

 

“You’re going to hurt him,” says Evan. He feels like he’s far, far, far away. “You’re going to… to hurt him to see what happens? He’s… he’s your brother, Dominic. He looks just like you, how can you… how can you…”

 

He’s really, really trying not to throw up. 

 

“Think of the possibilities,” Veronica says insistently. “The things we could learn. The people we could help. Surely you understand. The needs of the many, as they say.” She smiles, almost sympathetically. “I’m aware you care for him, but you’ve got a job to do here, Mr. Hansen. And as much as I… dislike making threats, you’re on thin ice.”

 

“I don’t really care if you fire me,” Evan says honestly. Because at this stage, he doesn’t. Everything he’s done so far, everything he’s worked for and sacrificed, it’s all been for Connor, and if Connor’s being locked up and experimented on… 

 

This place can fucking burn for all he cares.

 

“We’re not about to waste a resource,” Dominic says firmly. “Which you are. A resource. One we’d like to keep on board, given how much we’ve invested in you.” He smiles a little coldly and hands him a file. Evan opens it with shaking hands and sees pictures of him, Jared and Yorick at the airport. “We could register Mr. Bateman as a missing person, and you and Mr. Kleinman will have been the last people to see him.”

 

“Jared brought him here with me,” Evan argues. “It just comes right back to you.”

 

“Not if Mr. Kleinman goes missing, too.”

 

They’re threatening Jared, and that should make Evan uncomfortable. It should make him furious and it should make him comply. But if it came to a choice between Jared and Connor? 

 

It’s Connor, every time. Without question. Without the slightest moment’s hesitation. 

 

But DYAD doesn’t need to know that.

 

“You’re trying to blackmail me?”

 

“I’m trying to remind you that you have responsibilities to the Institute,” Dominic says coolly. “Responsibilities to  _ your _ subject, who is, in this case, Mr. Albrecht. He’s the clone you should be worrying about. Let Connor Murphy go.”

 

Evan wants to scream and cry and rage and fight and kick this guy in the face and wipe that satisfied smile off Veronica Harding’s face and…

 

None of it will make any difference. 

 

His head is still spinning. 

 

He’s still got a concussion. 

 

He’s hoping like hell this is some kind of terrible dream. 

 

Dominic and Veronica talk at him a little more, then tell him to report back on Monday morning, and he leaves the office in a daze. He heads down the winding corridors until he finds Kylie’s office. 

 

Kylie’s sitting in the dark, drinking a glass of whiskey, her expression dark. 

 

“Kylie,” he says quietly. “Where are they keeping him?”

 

She shakes her head. “I can’t… I can’t tell you that, Evan. I’m so, so, so sorry.”

 

“I need your help to get him out,” he says desperately. “Please, Kylie. Please. I love him. I can’t… I can’t lose him, I can’t leave him here. I love him every bit as much as you loved Noah and-”

 

“He can heal,” Kylie interrupts. “He can heal, and the initial testing suggests… suggests that he’s completely immune to the clone disease. That means he’s a biological goldmine. That means he could be the key to all of this, Evan. He could… he could save them all.”

 

“If it’s him or them, I choose him,” Evan says, trying to sound strong.

 

Kylie stands up and looks Evan straight in the eye. She sighs, then touches his arm gently. “I choose them,” she says quietly, then leaves the room. 

 

* * *

 

The first person to come into Connor’s room isn’t a face he recognizes. 

 

Thank fuck for small miracles. 

 

This guy’s older, and is wearing a smile that Connor can only describe as plastic. 

 

“Mr. Murphy,” he says cheerfully. “Lovely to meet you, I’m Dr. Dubois. How are you doing?”

 

“What do you fucking think?”

 

“We should be able to make things a bit more pleasant for you eventually,” says the doctor, his tone conversational. “However, there’s initial testing we need to get done before we can transfer you to somewhere a bit more comfortable.” He hooks up something to the IV in Connor’s arm, and Connor tries to pull away. 

 

“What is that?” Connor snaps. 

 

“Morphine,” says Dr. Dubois. “The testing might cause some pain.”

 

“I spent a summer in rehab for painkiller abuse, morphine is a really fucking bad idea,” Connor says, trying not to sound like he’s panicking. “Whatever it is you’re going to do, I can fucking take it.”

 

Dr. Dubois makes no move to stop. “It would be inhumane to do these tests without sufficient painkillers, Mr. Murphy,” he says, his tone conversational. Like they’re talking about the weather or some shit. “Unfortunately what we need to ascertain from you is somewhat invasive. I promise we’re only doing what’s necessary.”

 

Connor’s starting to feel light-headed and fuzzy. The morphine is hitting his system and he hates that he’s kind of enjoying the high. He’s trying to hang on to himself, to hang on to who he is and where he is and the reality of the situation he’s in, but it’s all kind of being swept away in a haze of drugs and…

 

Dr. Dubois has a scalpel, Connor recognizes dimly. 

 

Dr. Dubois is sanitizing the scalpel. 

 

He doesn’t feel pain, more like a dull pressing sensation, and he thinks if he were sober he’d be absolutely horrified. But all he can do is watch in morbid fascination as Dr. Dubois meticulously and efficiently removes his left index finger. 

 

* * *

 

“So how many people are there running around with my brother’s face?” Zoe asks. 

 

Reed’s not leaving Evan’s apartment til Evan gets back from DYAD, and neither it seems are Zoe and Hannah. Zoe’s clearly still furious, but more than a little scared, and Reed’s heart goes out to her. 

 

After all these years, she finds out her brother is alive and then immediately he’s in danger again. 

 

“We don’t know for sure,” Reed says, trying for a friendly tone despite how tired they are. “We’ve met at least a dozen, maybe more.”

 

“It’s so interesting,” Hannah says, and Zoe kind of shoots her a look. Hannah’s ears turn pink, but she shrugs a little at Zoe. “Human cloning? You have to admit that’s cool, right?” When Zoe doesn’t respond, she looks back to Reed. “So many things make sense about the genetic project now. Now that I know they’re clones, this raises a whole new set of questions. A whole new set of possibilities.”

 

“DYAD aren’t the only people working on the cure,” Reed admits slowly. “We’ve… we’ve got other people working on it. Maybe you and I can Skype with them later.”

 

Hannah’s eyes widen for a moment, then she looks back at Zoe. “What do you want to do?” she asks quietly. “Do you… do you want to go home? We could just go home if you don’t… this is a lot and things are crazy and maybe we should just…”

 

“You think I’m going to go home right after I find out my dead brother is alive and has been captured by a dodgy science organization that my girlfriend works for?” Zoe nearly yells. “Hannah, this is… what the fuck. You work for DYAD, they’re going to try to pull you into this, and then you’re not safe either. It’s bad enough they have Connor. It’s bad enough they have Evan. They’re not… what if you…”

 

Reed’s clone phone rings and they answer it immediately. “Hello?”

 

“Reed! Is Gus. Sorry I miss call. Dog to wash. What is happen?”

 

“DYAD has Connor,” Reed says, without preamble. “We… we might need you.”

 

“They have taken him?” Gus asks, his voice panicked. “They have taken Connor?”

 

“Yes,” Reed replies, trying not to wince. 

 

“I will get him back,” Gus says firmly. His voice is dark and guttural and almost unrecognizable and there’s a shiver that goes down Reed’s spine as they realize that this man has literally killed people. 

 

Gus would kill for Connor without hesitation. 

 

There’s a commotion on the other end of the line, and all of a sudden there’s a familiar Irish accent. “Reed. What happened?”

 

“DYAD has Connor and we need to get him out,” Reed says. “We’re… we’re out of our depth, we need your help.”

 

“We’ll be on the next plane,” Seamus says firmly. “I’m going to text you a name and an address in about five minutes. Get everyone you can and go there and wait. It’s safe. DYAD won’t find you there if you’re careful about going in one at a time.”

 

Reed isn’t expecting that at all. “Okay.”

 

Seamus sighs. “I’ve known a storm was coming for a while, based on some of the things Connor said at Christmas, and some of the things Gus has said since. My boys are reckless but I know how to protect them. We’ll keep in touch but we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

 

The call ends, and Reed looks at Zoe and Hannah. “Help is on its way,” they say firmly. 

 

“Who?” Hannah asks.

 

“Someone we can trust.”

 

* * *

 

Evan’s halfway home when he gets a call on his DYAD phone. He doesn’t recognize the number, but he pulls over and answers it anyway. 

 

“Evan,” says the voice on the other end. It’s a voice he recognizes. 

 

“Mr. Murphy?”

 

“I’m at the airport,” he says, sounding frantic and very tired. “DYAD’s flown me in to deal with the situation. They want to meet with me straight away. I don’t know what’s going to happen but you and I need to talk.”

 

“I’ve just left DYAD,” Evan says. He knows he sounds equally tired. He knows that he should be surprised by this revelation but… something inside him really isn’t. 

 

Of course DYAD has contacted Larry Murphy. 

 

Of course they have. 

 

He’s probably known the whole time. 

 

“They let you go home?” Larry asks, with a tone of relief. “Thank god. Okay, that’s good. That’s really good. Just… go home and I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. We need to… we’re on the same page, Evan. Whatever you think of me, just believe that when it comes to… when it comes to my _son,_ I want him safe as much as you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	73. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry and Evan get McDonald's.

Evan gets back to his apartment to find Hannah, Zoe and Reed quietly talking on the couch. They stop talking the minute he arrives and he kind of stares for a moment.

 

“What happened?” Reed asks immediately. “What did they say?”

 

“Connor’s different from the rest of the clones,” Evan says, trying to quiet the buzzing in his head so he can answer Reed’s question. “He can… he can heal. I saw it for myself just after Christmas, but I didn’t believe it. They… they think he can cure the clone illness.”

 

The room is deadly silent. “Are you saying that he’s got some kind of accelerated regeneration ability?” Hannah asks slowly. “That’s… that’s completely nuts.”

 

“He cut his hand open at New Years and it was healed overnight,” Evan replies. His head hurts and he’s just so tired. “He didn’t even seem to realize it was weird. He…”

 

Evan wants to explain about Connor’s suicide attempt at 14.

 

But he suspects Zoe doesn’t know.

 

He’s hurt his friend enough today.

 

“He ran a door once and got a black eye,” Zoe says suddenly. “And the next day it was fine. Mom was really worried but Dad just said it couldn’t have been that bad.”

 

“I don’t know what they’re going to do to him,” Evan says slowly. “But I don’t think it’s going to be a pop quiz. I think they’re going to…” He has to take a moment to stop himself from throwing up, but eventually manages to continue. “I think they’re going to see what he can recover from. See how far his regeneration goes.”

 

“That’s horrific,” says Hannah, clearly disturbed. “That’s… holy shit, that’s… if they want to see how much his body can heal from, how are they going to know until they go too far? They could kill him.”

 

“Even if they don’t kill him, what they’re doing is torture,” Reed says, their tone miserable.

 

Zoe looks physically ill.

 

Probably about as ill as Evan feels.

 

“They won’t let me see him,” Evan tells them. “But they won’t… they weren’t happy I’d kept this from them. They… they want me to keep working for them but… they made some threats. To keep me in line, I guess.”

 

“What did they threaten you with?” Zoe asks sharply.

 

Evan just shakes his head. “Nothing I won’t risk for Connor,” he says firmly. “Nothing… there’s nothing I won’t risk for Connor.”

 

Zoe’s face shifts, just a little. It looks like she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead she crosses her arms and looks at Reed pointedly. “Evan’s back, you need to tell him what’s going on.”

 

“I called Gus,” Reed informs Evan. “Gus and Seamus are on their way. Seamus gave me an address. It’s local and it’s safe and he wants everyone to get there. One by one. Not all on mass, but… it’s safe and DYAD won’t find us, and at this point that might be what we need.” They look at Hannah meaningfully. “Hannah, you’re… you’re probably in the clear when it comes to DYAD. They won’t immediately suspect you know what’s going on. If you and Zoe want to just go home, you don’t have to be a part of this.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere until my brother is safe,” Zoe says firmly. “So I can yell at him some more for faking his death. I can’t yell at him for faking his death if he’s actually dead.”

 

Hannah kind of laughs, then looks at Zoe fondly. “Babe, this is… this could be really dangerous. I’m with you, whatever you want to do, but just… you need to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

 

“We’re already in this,” Zoe says, taking Hannah’s hand and kissing it gently. “You’re with DYAD and my brother’s a clone. We’re in this.”

 

Reed hands Evan a piece of paper. It’s got a name, an address and a phone number on it. “This is all the info you need,” they say. “I’m going to head home and pack, then head to this location.” They look troubled. “I don’t know if we’re going to be off the grid for a while. This could… this is really fucking dangerous.”

 

“We’ll go back to our hotel,” says Zoe firmly. “And then we’ll meet you there tomorrow. We… like you said, we’re under the least suspicion right now. We can afford to take some time.”

 

“If you can maybe head out in a few hours,” Reed says to Evan hesitantly. “That might be best. The more of us show up in one go, the more suspicious it is. Lucas and Donna are going to leave just after midnight.” Their face grows even more concerned. “We haven’t heard from Torpedo, though. He’s not answering his phone.”

 

“Should we be worried?” Evan asks sharply. “He’s sick. He’s…”

 

“I think we’re past worried by now,” says Reed with a humorless laugh.

 

* * *

 

When Torpedo comes to, the first thing he’s aware of is that his mom is crying. She smiles weakly as he opens his eyes and squeezes his hand tight.

 

“Don’t get up too quickly, sweetheart,” she says gently. “You just had a seizure. Just… take it slow.” Her expression is both terrified and haunted. “I wanted to call an ambulance but… Charles said it would be a bad idea.” She squeezes his hand again and Torpedo struggles to sit up. She pulls him into a hug and it takes a moment for Torpedo to realize that he’s crying, too.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he says into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m so sorry to scare you, I just… I just couldn’t.”

 

“You’re going to be okay, babe,” she says soothingly. “I promise you, I’m going to help. You’re not alone in this anymore.”

 

It’s embarrassing, but Torpedo allows his mom to help him shower and change, and help him down the stairs back to bed. He sees that his clone phone is full of messages and frowns.

 

“There’s a situation with the clones,” he says to his mom. “I just… I might have to go somewhere to help.”

 

“I’m coming with you,” says Jenny firmly.

 

Torpedo’s too tired to argue. He calls Reed, who quickly explains the situation, and when the call is over, Torpedo relays all the information to his mom and Beanpole, who looks thoughtful.

 

“I’ll give you a secure number for me,” he says, taking Torpedo’s clone phone and entering in his details. “In the meantime, I’ll find out what I can about what’s going on in DYAD and be in touch. I’ll be in the States for another week or so, working mostly out of the New York office. If you need me, just call.” He gives Torpedo a smile, then looks at Jenny. “What we’re doing can go on the backburner for the time being. One crisis at a time, that’s always been my motto.”

 

“How’s that working out for you?” Torpedo asks with a roll of his eyes.

 

Beanpole smirks. “Rather poorly, thanks for asking.”

 

* * *

 

Evan meets Larry Murphy at McDonald’s at 2 in the morning.

 

If he were in a slightly less intense state of terror, he might have found that funny.

 

“I suppose you’re wondering what I know,” says Larry. He’s ordered fries and way too many ketchup packets and is pouring all the ketchup into a big pile of the side of his tray.

 

Evan’s seen both Connor and Zoe do the exact same thing on separate occasions.

 

It’s kind of surreal.

 

“Well, I’m assuming you know that Connor’s alive,” Evan says flatly. “The question is, how long have you known?”

 

“How long have I suspected?” Larry says, the corner of his mouth quirking in what might be amusement. “Since I was called in to ID a dead body that looked like my son with a haircut. How long have I known for sure? A couple of hours.” He eats a fry and looks at Evan. “Your turn.”

 

“I found out in October,” Evan replies, kind of stirring at his milkshake absently. “I met Reed first - they’re another clone, they were my lab partner in my terrestrial biology class. It threw me at first, how much they looked like Connor, but they dressed and acted so differently I could almost explain it away.” He smiles a little. “Then I remet Connor. And that was… that changed everything.”

 

“And you’re… together?” Larry asks, a little awkwardly. “The two of you?”

 

“Yes,” Evan replies, hoping he doesn’t sound as defensive as he feels he does.

 

Larry smiles a little sadly. “Good. That’s good. It’s good he has someone like you in his corner. He… he deserves to be happy.”

 

Evan takes a sip of his milkshake and looks Larry straight in the eye. “So how are we getting him out?”

 

Larry doesn’t flinch. “I don’t know yet,” he replies, his tone frank. “But we’re going to. I have contacts within the organization. People who owe me favors. If I can get some sort of leverage, something I can offer them for Connor’s release, I might be able to come to some form of arrangement. I just don’t know what.”

 

“What would they want?” Evan asks, curious despite himself. “Or is it a case of… different kinds of leverage?”

 

Larry’s eyebrows raise just a little, then he smiles that sad smile again. “You’re certainly not the same kid you were when I first met you, are you Evan?” He sighs. “DYAD has a way of… sucking out your humanity. Making you consider things you never would otherwise. Some of the things I’ve done for this organization I would never have considered before joining. I’d… I’d hoped to spare you some of this, but there’s only so much I can do.”

 

Evan blinks. “You’ve been… looking out for me?”

 

Larry looks surprised. “Of course I have. You and Hannah. You’re both important to my daughter and I want you to be safe.”

 

Evan’s not really sure what to say. “Thank you.”

 

“In terms of leverage,” Larry says wearily, “there’s not a lot I can think of, but I… we need to move quickly. Now that they’ve found out about his healing ability, I don’t even want to imagine what they’ll do to him.”

 

“You knew about the healing.”

 

“I did,” Larry confirms. He looks tired and old. “When he was fourteen…”

 

“I know,” Evan says, not wanting him to have to talk about it. Not wanting to talk about it or think about it again. “He… you told him it wasn’t serious, but it was, wasn’t it?”

 

“It was the only thing I could think of,” Larry says, looking ashamed. “I wanted… I wanted to get him help. But taking him to a doctor? It would have to be a DYAD one. And then they might find out about the healing. And I knew that if they did, they’d take him away. Experiment on him. I…” Larry hangs his head for a long moment, then continues, not looking at Evan. “I have made a lot of mistakes when it comes to Connor. But from the moment I took him home from the lab at DYAD when he was just a few months old, I have loved him and tried to do what’s best for him.”

 

“Did you… did you know it wasn’t Connor who died?” Evan asks. “Was there any way to tell?”

 

Larry hesitates. “There… there could have been a way to tell. An autopsy at DYAD would have confirmed it. But I had my suspicions that it wasn’t Connor and I… I made a snap decision and I had the body cremated. If it was Connor, then at least I’d sleep better at night, knowing they weren’t experimenting on my dead son’s body. And if it wasn’t Connor… then maybe, wherever he ended up, he’d be safe from DYAD if they thought he was dead.”

 

“It worked for a while,” Evan says, because he’s not sure what else to say. “And it probably would have been fine if…”

 

If Evan hadn’t gotten involved.

 

If Evan hadn’t agreed to work with DYAD.

 

If Evan hadn’t let Connor kiss him in the middle of the night.

 

If Evan hadn’t been so fucking stupid and reckless.

 

This is Evan’s fault.

 

This is all his fault.

 

“DYAD is ruthless,” Larry says quietly. “I truly think that there are people at the top who have humanities best interests at heart, but there are also people who just care about profits. And discovering Connor’s healing ability… that’s huge. They’re saying they could use it to cure cancer. And if DYAD can cure cancer, cure almost anything, that means money. Prestige. Power.” His expression is grim. “People will do unspeakable things for power.”

 

“Could we break him out somehow?” Evan suggests. “I know the lab relatively well. I could… I could sneak him out, maybe?”

 

Larry looks at him, his expression sorrowful. “They would never stop hunting you if you did that. Either of you. That’s providing you survived. If you did, they’d go after everyone you’ve ever cared about in retaliation. And that includes my daughter. I can’t let you do that.”

 

“Leverage,” Evan mutters to himself. He laughs a little bitterly. “What kind of leverage causes someone to let go of a subject who could contain a miracle cure? It would have to be huge. It would have to be… really fucking huge.” He rubs his face tiredly. “I have… there are other people working on this,” he says quietly. “I’ll keep you posted on what they come up with, but I don’t think they’d… well, they really don’t trust DYAD. And you’re DYAD.”

 

“And so are you,” says Larry, not unkindly.

 

Evan thinks about warning Larry that Zoe knows about Connor.

 

He knows he should.

 

But that’s still too raw. It’s like an open wound.

 

“Seamus and Gus are coming to town,” he says, almost to himself. “They’re at the very least resourceful. If they managed to get in then maybe…”

 

Larry’s looking at him with a very strange expression. “Gus?” he asks, frowning. “Who’s Gus?”

 

“Another clone,” says Evan tiredly. “Connor’s twin.”

 

Larry’s eyes widen. “The other twin. You found the other twin?”

 

Evan blinks. “Connor’s known him since high school, apparently. They’re close, Gus and Connor. Gus has had a hard life. He and Seamus - his adopted dad - have been off the grid for a while.”

 

“The other twin,” Larry says again. His expression brightens. “Evan, that’s it.”

 

Evan frowns. “That’s what?”

 

Larry smiles. “Leverage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	74. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone Club assembles, and a terrible choice is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Disturbing content/torture in the middle section.

The address provided by Seamus leads to a derelict hotel on the outskirts of the city, owned by a woman named Renee, who Reed decides they like immediately. She ushers them in and lets them know that they’re the first one here. Reed follows her down the hallway, almost needing to power walk to keep up with her electric wheelchair. “Got shot in the back on a job,” she says in a thick Irish accent. “Seamus helped me get out of that one. I’d be dead if not for him. He needs my help, I’m there without a doubt.”

 

“Did he, uh, warn you about everyone who’s coming?” Reed asks feebly.

 

“That I’ll be seeing a lot of the same face? That he did.” The lobby is dusty but has the look of a place that used to be art deco and gorgeous. “You wanting to wait for the rest of your group or get some sleep?”

 

“Honestly, I’m wiped,” Reed admits. “But what about you? You must be tired as well.”

 

Renee shrugs. “Once Seamus arrives, I’ll crash, but in the meantime, I’ll just keep rolling out the welcome mat. Take any room you like, there’s a bunch of them upstairs. Apologies for dust or such, I haven’t had many people through in the last few months.”

 

Reed is too tired to argue, so thanks her sincerely and heads upstairs to claim a room. When they wake up hours later, it’s to the sound of voices downstairs.

 

They head down to the lobby and everyone’s there, with the except of Zoe and Hannah. There’s Lucas and Donna, Evan, Seamus and Gus and Torpedo with a woman Reed doesn’t recognize but from the short conversation they’d had the previous day they guess must be Torpedo’s mom.

 

She looks at them as they head down the stairs and bursts out laughing, which seems to set the whole group at ease.

 

“Torpedo sweetie, you really weren’t kidding,” she says, smiling warmly. “You must be Reed, I’m Jenny. Torpedo’s mom.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Reed says, extending a hand to shake. Jenny goes straight for a hug, to Reed’s slight shock, but it’s kind of nice.

 

They could do with a fucking hug right now.

 

Torpedo’s pale but smiles weakly. They’re about to say something when there’s a knock on the door. Seamus goes to answer it and returns with Zoe and Hannah in tow.

 

Both women are wide-eyed at the sight of four identical faces in the room.

 

Gus is the first to react. “You are Zoe!” he says cheerfully, enveloping a stunned Zoe in a hug. “I am Gus. It is not good times, but still good to meet you, yes?” There’s a bark, and Gus grins as his dog comes running. “This is Pampushka. She is very good girl. Still mad, because I make her fly on plane. She does not like plane.” His face falls a little. “I do not like plane either, but I fly to be here. For Connor.” He smiles again and puts his hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “It is good to meet you. Connor talks of you often.” Then he looks at Hannah. “And you must be Zoe’s Hannah! Very good! Very good things I hear of you from Evan. He says you are very smart. Genius. Again, not good times, but good to meet new friends.”

 

Zoe looks like a deer in headlights but Hannah immediately goes to pet the dog. “You’re beautiful,” she murmurs to Pampushka. “Aren’t you beautiful?”

 

“Gus is Connor’s twin,” Evan says to Zoe quietly. “He’s a dog groomer.”

 

“I make the dogs even more beautiful,” says Gus cheerfully. “All dogs are good dogs and are very beautiful, some just need bath.”

 

“You’re Russian?” Zoe asks, the stunned expression never leaving her face.

 

Gus laughs. “I grow up in Ukraine. But Seamus tells me when I am baby, I am being born in Ireland. Like Connor.”

 

“Connor was born in Ireland?” Zoe asks.

 

“That’s right,” says Seamus, extending his hand for Zoe to shake with a smile. “Seamus Sadler, nice to meet you.”

 

“He is Dad,” Gus says brightly. “Looks after us.”

 

Seamus’s expression is pained. “I try.”

 

“Glad you made it,” says Torpedo to Zoe with a weak smile. Zoe’s expression turns to one of alarm when she sees Torpedo and he winces a little. “Shit, do I look that bad?”

 

“You really do,” says Reed, frowning. “We should get you to bed.”

 

Torpedo pouts. “You’re not my mom.”

 

“No, I’m your mom,” says Jenny firmly, “and I agree with your sibling. Let’s get your ass to bed.”

 

Torpedo protests, but lets Jenny and Reed help him up the stairs to a bedroom. He’s weaker than he has been, Reed realizes with a frown, and he’s pale and he’s shaking. They manage to get him into the bed despite his complaints and the fact he looks deeply, deeply unhappy.

 

“Take my laptop and Skype Ivy if you can,” Torpedo says just as Jenny and Reed are leaving him to sleep. “But don’t… I still don’t think we should be telling Evan about this.”

 

Reed frowns. “Are you sure? I feel like he should know.”

 

Torpedo shakes his head. “He’s a fucking mess. He doesn’t need this as well.”

 

Reed bits their lip and plays around with the piercing for a moment. “I think bringing Hannah on board is a good idea,” they say firmly. “I know she’s DYAD, but she’s not in that loop. She’s just here for the science and she’s good. She’s really, really good.”

 

“As long as you don’t tell Evan,” Torpedo insists. “I feel like one more variable will break him at this point.”

 

Reed doesn’t disagree, but they also wonder if one more secret being kept from him will affect him just as badly.

 

Jenny grabs their arm as they leave the room and drags them into a spare bedroom. Her expression is grim. “My research on DYAD says this disease is fatal,” she says bluntly. “I… I don’t mean to be rude, I understand that Connor is one of you, but from what’s being said… he might be the key to the cure. Could we… could we wait to extract him once the cure has been found?”

 

“I don’t know how long that will take,” Reed says, their voice firm. “There’s no way of knowing. But what I do know is that if they’re trying to find out how far his healing goes, the things they could be doing to determine the extent of his abilities…” They take a deep breath and continue. “Well, they could be pretty horrific. If we don’t get him out soon, I don’t know how much of him will be left to rescue.”

 

Jenny’s face is white. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I… shit.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

When they get downstairs, the rest of the group is talking amongst themselves. Gus wants to take Pampushka out for a walk, and Evan offers to go with him, which gives Reed the time they need to talk to Hannah and Zoe. They take Torpedo’s laptop and go into a small empty office off the lobby.

 

“What’s going on?” Zoe asks.

 

“We’ve been looking at other options to find the cure,” Reed says bluntly. “Torpedo has a contact in California. I’ve been working with her.” They look at Hannah. “I want your opinion on what we’ve been working on.”

 

Hannah blinks. “Me?”

 

“You’re brilliant,” Reed says honestly. “You’re brilliant, you think about things I don’t even consider, and now that you know… I think Torpedo’s running out of time and I don’t trust DYAD to make the clone cure their top priority, even if they are dissecting Connor as we speak.”

 

“Does Evan know about this?” Zoe asks, her tone cautious. “You’re telling us about this now while he’s not here. He doesn’t, does he?”

 

Reed shakes their head. “No. He… we decided not to tell him about this. Me, Lucas, Torpedo and Connor. Connor wasn’t thrilled, but Lucas was worried about DYAD and… I just don’t think Evan needs the extra stress.”

 

“No wonder he’s been such a mess,” Hannah says with a shake of her head. “This is all just… a lot. It’s a lot from where I’m standing, I can’t imagine how I’d take it if I was personally involved with one of the subjects.” She looks at Reed for a moment. “Evan really loves Connor, doesn’t he? All this… all the stress, all the work, all the secrets, all the lies… he did it all because he thought the person he loved was going to die. And now Connor’s in more danger than ever.” Hannah glances at Zoe, who is biting her lip a little. “I don’t know what I’d do if I were in his place. If it were you.”

 

Zoe’s expression softens, but she’s still frowning. “He lied to me,” she says, her voice soft. “He lied to me for months.”

 

“I think he had to,” Hannah says, her voice equally soft.

 

Zoe crosses her arms defiantly and Reed sets up the Skype call. Ivy’s on the other end in seconds and looks a little surprised to see some unfamiliar faces.

 

“I’ve called in reinforcements,” Reed says quickly. “Ivy, this is Hannah and her girlfriend, Zoe. Hannah’s an intern like me and specializes in bio-engineering. I really think she’s got a useful viewpoint.”

 

Ivy smiles. “At this point in time, I’d take anything.” Her expression darkens. “Parker… he’s getting worse.”

 

Hannah frowns and leans closer to the screen. “Want to get me up to speed?”

 

* * *

 

When Connor comes to, he’s not actually sure he has. Everything’s fuzzy and soft around the edges and he dimly comes to the realization that he’s drugged up to his eyeballs.

 

He has a vague thought.

 

That doctor totally chopped off his finger.

 

He watched him chop off his fucking finger.

 

Connor looks at his hand and…

 

What.

 

He flexes both his hands experimentally.

 

Eight fingers, two thumbs.

 

All present and accounted for.

 

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

 

This time the voice doesn’t come from nowhere. There’s someone in front of him. Short hair, beard, expensive suit and his face.

 

This must be Dominic.

 

“You cut off my finger,” Connor says weakly. “I saw you do it, but I still… I still have all my fingers.”

 

“You grew a new one while you were unconscious,” says Dominic. He looks delighted. “This is excellent news. Your regenerative abilities are much more than we anticipated. We’ll have to step things up. What will happen if we remove a kidney? A lung? Will they grow back? The possibilities are endless.”

 

“Great, so now I’m part of an organ harvesting whatever,” Connor says, fighting to keep his tone irritated and sharp through the fog. He’s not giving this asshole the satisfaction of seeing him weak.

 

“The DYAD Institute can do better than selling organs on the black market,” Dominic says, his tone almost bored. “But there’s plenty more to find out from you. Plenty more ways we can find to make you tick.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

The movement is so swift that Connor doesn’t realize what’s happening until there’s a scalpel embedded in his upper arm. Whatever they’re pumping him full of now, it’s not a painkiller. He can feel everything. He can’t help it - he screams.

 

“The thing about you, Connor Murphy,” says Dominic in that crisp British accent, “is that I can do whatever the hell I want to you and you’ll just… bounce right back.” He twists the scalpel and smiles as Connor screams again. “This is just a taster. There’s so much more I can do.”

 

“Bring it on,” Connor says through gritted teeth. “Or better yet, take off these restraints and we can beat the shit out of each other like civilised clones, huh?”

 

“You don’t deserve this,” Dominic hisses. “This gift. This regeneration. You don’t deserve to be immune from the disease that afflicts the rest of us. And you certainly don’t deserve to have Ben Childs’ life.”

 

“Yeah well, life doesn’t really have much to do with who deserves what,” Connor says back, with as close to a grin as he can muster through the pain. “For example, you definitely deserve a kick in the nuts but the universe doesn’t seem to have followed through on that one yet.”

 

Dominic pulls out the scalpel and stabs Connor right in the chest.

 

It’s like having the breath knocked out of him. He wheezes and starts coughing. Choking.

 

Everything’s pain.

 

All he can feel is painpainpain.

 

“You’ll be fine,” Dominic says, his tone almost manically cheerful. “You’ll be fine, no matter what I do to you. And as long as I write down what I’m doing…” he leans closer and smiles as he continues, “this is science.”

 

Connor blacks out just as a scalpel heads straight for his eye.

 

* * *

 

As Gus and Pampushka walk with Evan, Gus can see that Evan is troubled and full of sorrow.

 

Gus understands.

 

He is full of sorrow, too.

 

“It is strange,” he confesses to Evan, “to see you all again with no Connor. It feels incomplete. I have missed him very much and to know he is in danger gives me much worry.”

 

Evan is very pale. He seems to be having a battle with his mind as they walk, and Gus understands this. He has many battles with his mind.

 

Evan stops walking and looks at Gus. “I have to ask you something,” he says, his voice sad.

 

“You can ask anything,” says Gus, frowning.

 

“I don’t want to ask this.”

 

Gus thinks he understands. “You have plan to save Connor,” he guesses. “And you need me.”

 

“I don’t know what they’re doing to him in there, but it’s not good,” Evan says. Gus sees there are tears in his eyes. “I know that Seamus is coming up with a plan and we’re all trying, but… the longer he’s there, the worse it’s going to be.”

 

“It is torture, what they do to him?” Gus asks, feeling his spine go cold. “I know this. I have had this often as child. I do not… I cannot allow this for Connor. He is strong, but even strong men will break.”

 

“I have a contact inside DYAD,” Evan says slowly, “who’s made arrangements with someone high up in the organization. They…” Evan wipes his face, then continues. “They think the reason Connor is different from the others is that he’s a twin.”

 

“He is my twin,” Gus says. His spine is still so cold.

 

He smells bleach.

 

He feels the sting of a blade against his back.

 

Pampushka nuzzles his hand and gently barks. She is always knowing when Gus is going back to the past. He takes a deep breath and puts his hands in her fur.

 

“Yes,” says Evan. The tears are running down his face now. “They… they said that they’re willing to let Connor go, if you go in his place.” He wipes his face again, then continues talking. “I don’t want to ask you to do this, Gus. I really don’t. But… I love him. I love him and I can’t… I can’t bear it, I can’t… this is the only way to get him back and he’ll never forgive me but…”

 

“I have done many bad things in my life,” Gus says gently. “I have killed innocent people. I have tried to make amends, to live a life that is good and is pure, but I think… I think I must atone.”

 

Evan shakes his head. “No. No, you absolutely do not need to atone. You… I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to ask you to do this, but I…”

 

“You are loving him very much,” says Gus firmly. “I love him also. And if it will save him, I will go. It will be my penance.”

 

Evan has the saddest eyes Gus has ever seen. Gus thinks his eyes must be sad, too.

 

“Gus, I’m so sorry. I’ll… I’ll try my hardest to get you out too, but…”

 

“No,” Gus says, shaking his head. “You make bargain, yes? I go and Connor leaves, and they promise no danger to anyone. To Connor and Lucas and Reed and Torpedo and all others. All will be safe and you will live good, happy lives.”

 

He can smell the bleach.

 

He can feel the cut of the blade.

 

It has always been there.

 

He has always known this would return.

 

Evan starts to sob, and Gus pulls him into a hug. “I wish there was another way,” Evan says. His voice is shaky, wet and sad.

 

“You will look after my Pampushka, yes?” Gus asks. He hears that his voice is also shaky, wet and sad. “You will give her to Connor. He will need comfort. You must protect him and tell him it is my choice. I make this choice to save him.”

 

“You’re a good man, Gus,” Evan says, pulling away and wiping his face.

 

“You are good man too,” Gus says kindly. Evan shakes his head furiously. “Is true. You are good man in impossible situation. You must make hard choices for the person you love.”

 

Gus thinks of Handsome Fruit Man, just for a moment.

 

He does not think he loves Handsome Fruit Man, but maybe he could have loved him one day. He knows that love takes time, and that time is now being taken away from him.

 

But he is ready.

 

He has always known he must one day face the devils he has made for himself.

 

“We go to DYAD now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	75. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has dinner with the Freemans.

“This is the worst idea. This is the absolute worst idea. Why am I doing this? What is wrong with me? Why am I talking to myself in this shitty car?”

 

As he makes the three and a half hour drive to Lucas’s, Connor thinks to himself that if he’d been in this situation three months ago, he probably would have just let Lucas miss his family dinner or drive drunk. But no, now he considers Lucas family or some shit, which is just… well, it’s inconvenient as fuck, because not only is he going to have to pretend to be Lucas for an evening, he’s also going to have to drive, like, 7 hours there and back to deal with it. 

 

Also, he had to get a haircut. 

 

And he had to take his nail polish off. 

 

Fuck this. 

 

He’s almost tempted to turn around and go back to Torpedo’s basement. 

 

But he keeps driving, because even though Lucas is an asshole, he’s his brother, in a way, and that kind of gives him asshole privileges. 

 

What he wouldn’t give to be eating cookies and getting high with Torpedo right now. 

 

The food at this dinner is probably going to suck. 

 

When he finally arrives at the Freeman house, Connor kind of stops in his tracks as he’s getting out of the car because this house is fucking huge. It’s like… huge and weird and imposing and he’s getting weird flashbacks to that time where Zoe watched reruns of Gilmore Girls near constantly and he actually watched a couple of episodes with her (stoned out of his mind and lacking the will or motivation to go upstairs). 

 

This house is like the grandparents’ house from Gilmore Girls. 

 

Who knew that Gilmore Girls was a fucking documentary?

 

He goes to open the front door and there’s a fucking maid there, and this is all just completely insane. She looks sympathetic and seems to be about to say something when a short blonde woman appears out of nowhere and starts glaring at him. 

 

“Where have you been, Lucas Richard Freeman? Your father has been worried sick about you!”

 

Aha. This Connor can deal with. Good old-fashioned, all-American teenage rebellion (even though he supposes he’s technically Irish, but then again who the fuck knows?). 

 

“Obviously I’ve been out sucking dick for meth.”

 

Connor immediately realizes that was the wrong move as the woman turns almost purple. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” she says, her tone icy, “but go upstairs and change before dinner.”

 

“I have to go pick up Donna,” he argues. 

 

“Then get changed quickly.”

 

Connor sighs then heads up the stairs, hoping against hope there aren’t too many rooms and he’ll be able to figure out which one is Lucas’s relatively easily. Fate seems to be on his side today, and he immediately spots what must be Lucas’s bedroom just to the right of the stairs. 

 

He looks around and lets out a quiet laugh. 

 

Of-fucking-course this is Lucas’s room. 

 

It’s, like, the most typical preppy teenage boy room you can imagine, with the soccer posters and the soccer trophies and a desk and a bed and a navy bedspread and… okay, it’s actually not that different from Ben’s room aside from the whole soccer thing. 

 

He goes to Lucas wardrobe and quickly changes into something that looks vaguely appropriate. Almost everything in this wardrobe looks the same, but he errs on the side of formal because… well, he’d rather get looked at weird for being too fancy than yelled at for being a slob. 

 

It doesn’t take him long to look exactly like Lucas when he looks in the mirror. 

 

It kind of makes him laugh. 

 

Oxford shirt and blazer, chinos and dress shoes. It’s not dissimilar to Ben, but Ben’s more… hipstery, Connor guesses, whereas this is preppy. 

 

Reed’s ranting about fashion seems to be rubbing off on him. 

 

He hates his hair this length. It had just started to get to a length he was a little bit comfortable with and then all of a sudden, he has to cut it even shorter. 

 

Lucas better fucking appreciate this. 

 

Lucas owes him big time for this. Not just a small favor, but several large favors. 

 

Connor entertains ideas of things he could make Lucas do to pay him back for bailing out his drunk ass as he leaves the house, then realizes to his dismay that he has absolutely no fucking clue where Lucas’s girlfriend lives. 

 

He calls Torpedo. 

 

“I’m supposed to pick up Lucas’s girlfriend for dinner but I don’t know where she lives,” says Connor as soon as the call connects. “Lucas needs to give me an address and quickly.”

 

“He’s still drunk but he’s awake,” Torpedo says, his tone a little dubious. “I’ll put him on.”

 

“Donna lives in a yellow house,” Lucas slurs. 

 

“Thank you for that but I’m going to need an actual address.”

 

“It has a green door.”

 

“Again, not helpful.”

 

“It’s down the road from a Catholic church and there’s an inflatable Santa on the lawn.”

 

Connor resists the urge to yell at his clone. “Lucas. Oh my god, an address. Also, it’s March, why is there a Santa on the lawn?”

 

“Donna’s dad thinks it’s funny.” 

 

“Put Torpedo back on,” Connor says irritably. “You’re completely useless.”

 

There’s a commotion, then Torpedo’s back. “Sorry.”

 

“Look, what’s this chick’s last name? I’ll just… I don’t know, Google her address.”

 

“Winterbottom.”

 

Connor blinks. “What?”

 

“Her last name is Winterbottom.”

 

“Wow.” Connor snorts. “I guess she’ll be taking Lucas’s last name if they ever get hitched, huh?”

 

It’s Torpedo’s turn to snort. “Dude, we’re 18. The chances of Lucas staying with his high school girlfriend through college are… pretty fucking low.”

 

Connor can hear Lucas’s voice yelling in the background. “Bullshit! I’m going to love her forever!”

 

“I’m looking up an address for you now,” Torpedo says. Connor can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “I’ll text it through.”

 

“Give him some fucking water,” Connor says irritably. “And tell him I’m going to kiss his girlfriend out of sheer spite.”

 

Torpedo laughs. “Good luck pretending to be straight, dude.”

 

“Fuck offffff.”

 

Connor ends the call, gets an address in a message from Torpedo and plugs it into his GPS. He doesn’t know the neighborhood at all, but he hasn’t got the worst sense of direction, so he manages to find his way there, then has a moment of crisis when he realizes he has no idea what he’s supposed to do. 

 

Is he supposed to go to the door? Or just beep his horn? Or text her? 

 

He doesn’t have Lucas’s phone, so the last one is out. 

 

Beeping the horn just seems really fucking rude. 

 

He sighs and gets out of the car then knocks on the front door. 

 

An admittedly cute girl with curly red hair answers and looks a little bewildered. “I figured you’d just beep the horn,” she says, clearly confused. “But this is nice.”

 

“Uh, hi,” he says awkwardly. “Ready for dinner?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be with your parents,” she says. She does a weird spin thing. “How do I look?”

 

“Nice,” he replies, hoping it’s the right answer. “Uh, I mean, you look pretty.”

 

Donna laughs. “You’re so weird today. Let me guess - you’re hungover, aren’t you?”

 

“Last night was kind of intense,” he admits. At least that’s not a lie. 

 

“Poor thing,” says Donna sympathetically, patting his cheek. Then she pulls him in for a kiss. 

 

If Connor never has to kiss another girl again in his life, it’ll be too soon. 

 

She kind of gives him this weird look and Connor fakes a cough. “Sorry,” he says. “I think I’m getting a cold and I don’t want to get you sick.”

 

“I’ve got a gig coming up, I can’t really afford to get sick,” she says with a small smile. “Guess I’ll have to suffer without Lucas kisses for a while.” She takes his hand then kisses his knuckles. “This is safe, though.”

 

Connor has to admit that’s kind of cute. He decides he’s going to try to be a good boyfriend for the evening and opens the passenger side door to let her in. Donna kind of laughs and does a weird curtsey thing but gets in. 

 

Connor gets a little turned around trying to find his way back to Lucas’s house and it’s embarrassing as fuck. Donna, to her credit, doesn’t comment, just kind of sends him weird looks every now and then. Eventually, he manages to get them back to Lucas’s house. When they arrive, Lucas’s mom greets them in this sickly sweet voice that reminds Connor of the way his mom used to talk to the next-door neighbor's new wife who she’d bitch about being far too young for him when they got back home after neighborhood barbecues.  

 

“Donna, it’s so wonderful to see you!” she simpers, going in for those weird air kiss things. Donna looks uncomfortable and Connor’s not exactly at ease himself. 

 

This was a bad idea. 

 

This was such a bad idea. 

 

“Diane, could you please get Lucas and Donna something to drink?” says Lucas’s mom to the maid, and it’s still so fucking weird that there’s actually a maid. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to a maid. He should have paid more attention when Zoe was watching Gilmore Girls, but then again he didn’t know there’d be a fucking pop quiz.

 

The maid nods and Lucas’s mom leads them into some sort of sitting room, which is ornate and over the top and completely insane. They sit down on these ridiculously uncomfortable sofas and Donna takes Connor’s hand and squeezes it. It’s kind of nice. 

 

Connor supposes she’s picking up on his nervous energy and just assumes it’s because he’s pissed at his parents. Not that the guy she thinks is her boyfriend is actually his genetic identical, filling in while her actual boyfriend is drunk off his ass in New Jersey.

 

Lucas’s mom talks about something completely ridiculous but Donna seems to be following. Connor kind of figures that Lucas’s girlfriend has been around for long enough that she knows how to deal with Lucas’s parents so resolves to try to follow her lead. 

 

Then a distinguished looking grey-haired man in a goddamned bowtie shows up, and Connor’s immediately on edge because he’s getting asshole toxic masculinity dad vibes from this guy and he’s kind of hungover himself and really doesn’t want to deal with this. 

 

He’s going to make Lucas buy him a fucking  _ helicopter _ for this. 

 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

 

“Lucas,” says Lucas’s dad calmly. “Good to see you’ve finally made it home.”

 

Connor forces a smile and doesn’t reply. He watches as Lucas’s dad pours himself a scotch, frowning a little to himself as he does. Lucas’s mom asks Donna something about music and Donna launches into an explanation of some form of benefit she’s performing at. It’s for underprivileged children or something and Lucas’s mom makes a comment about how they won’t be able to attend but they’ll be sure to make a generous donation and Connor wants to punch someone. 

 

The maid comes to tell them that dinner is ready and they go into a dining room that’s even fancier than the room they were just in, and classical music is playing and it’s all completely ridiculous and there are so many fucking forks. Connor’s the last to sit down which at least solves the problem of not knowing where to sit, and a soup course is brought out. 

 

From the looks of things, it’s some kind of potato soup. After the Freeman parents get stuck in, he takes a spoonful and frowns. “It’s cold,” he announces. 

 

Lucas’s mom just gives him a weird look. “Lucas, it’s Vichyssoise. It’s supposed to be cold.”

 

Connor blinks. “Right.”

 

He manages to eat a few more spoonfuls of the weird cold soup, all the while deciding that Lucas doesn’t just owe him a helicopter, he also owes him a fucking limb if he ever needs it. 

 

The soup course is soon cleared away, then there’s some kind of salad, which Connor can probably get behind because he doesn’t hate salad. He digs in and it’s got a weird aftertaste, but he eats it anyway. 

 

He’s not paying much attention to the conversation. He’s just focusing on getting out of this meal alive. Every now and then he nods and smiles in what he hopes is the right place, and Donna’s looking increasingly concerned, but he manages to hold his tongue in the face of increasingly passive aggressive comments from Lucas’s dad. 

 

They’re halfway through the main course when Lucas’s dad finally goes for the jugular. 

 

“It’s immature of you to sit there sulking, Lucas,” he says with a somehow dignified eye roll. “I understand you don’t want to give up your little game, but you need to focus on your future.”

 

Connor has endured Lucas talk about soccer far more often than he'd like to admit. And okay, he doesn’t care about soccer, but he does know it’s important to Lucas. It’s part of who he is. And he works hard and he loves it and it’s not just a little game. “You know what, fuck you,” he blurts out. 

 

The room goes deadly silent. 

 

Donna looks at him, eyes wide. “Babe are you okay?” She looks at the Freeman parents apologetically. “I think he said he was getting a migraine.”

 

“This bullshit is what’s giving me a migraine,” Connor snaps. “I do everything right. I do. I work hard, I get good grades, I got into business school - why can’t you let me have this one thing? It doesn’t even have to be the Under 21 team, even though I still think it’s crap you won’t let me do that. It’s a big fucking deal and I’ve worked hard and I know it’s not a respectable career, but it’s not something everyone can do. They don’t just… give away spots on this team. I earned this. I worked hard for it. You should give a shit about work ethic. You should give a shit about what I  _ want _ .”

 

Lucas’s dad snorts. “Life isn’t about getting what you want-”

 

“No, life isn’t about being automatically handed what you want,” Connor replies icily. “But I wasn’t. I wasn’t just handed this, I worked for it. I worked my ass off for it and you want me to just quit? What kind of work ethic is that? And you’re saying I can’t play social soccer or coach the kids' team either or you’ll fucking disown me? That’s just bullshit. If I’m going to business school, then what I do in my free time has nothing to do with anything.”

 

Lucas’s mom is bright red but also looks a little guilty. “Lucas, darling, we have a guest.”

 

Connor just ignores her. “Do you guys have any idea how god damned lucky you are? You’ve got a kid who works hard and does his best and has goals and dreams and isn’t just fucking around getting high and passing out on a park bench or some shit. You’re freaking out about fucking soccer. Your kid could be in rehab. Or dead. But instead, you just won’t let him do something that makes him happy. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

Lucas’s dad is also bright red. “I won’t be spoken to like this in my own home-”

 

“Where would you like to be spoken to like this?” Connor asks sarcastically. “On the sidewalk? In front of the house in full view of the neighbors?” 

 

“Lucas,” says Donna gently. “Sweetheart.”

 

“This meal is terrible and you’re both terrible,” Connor snaps. “Donna, do you want a burger? I’m buying you a burger.” 

 

With that, Connor takes Donna’s hand and escorts her out of the dining room, through the main hallway and out into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	76. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue.

“Where are Gus and Evan?” Lucas asks as Reed and Hannah come back into the lobby for a break. “They took Pampushka for a walk hours ago and they’re not back yet. It’s getting late.”

 

Reed doesn’t like this. They don’t like it at all. From the look on Seamus’s face, neither does he. “I’ll call Evan,” they say finally and pick up their clone phone. 

 

It goes straight to voicemail. 

 

“Something’s wrong,” they say, frowning. “Straight to voicemail. There’s no way that Evan would just turn off his clone phone with what’s happening now.”

 

“Same for Gus,” says Seamus, a look of panic on his face. “He’s not answering his phone either.”

 

“I’ll try Evan’s other phone,” Zoe offers, but as she goes to call, her phone rings. “Hello? Dad? What are you… yeah, we’re still in town… where? Uh, okay, if you want. What’s going on, you sound freaked out? Dad? Dad?”

 

Zoe looks at the group, clearly concerned. “That was my dad. He wants me to meet him at McDonald’s? He’s in town for business and… I don’t know if that has anything to do with Connor.”

 

“We know he has DYAD connections,” Hannah says gently. “He talked to me about it at Christmas. Me and Evan.”

 

“Larry Murphy, right?” says Torpedo, who’s curled up on a comfortable looking seat with a blanket over him, having finally argued his way out of bed. “That’s a name I’ve seen in DYAD files.”

 

“His name’s come up in some of my research into DYAD as well,” Jenny says, to Torpedo’s surprise. “Connected to a lot of patents for some… unusual things over the years. He’s definitely DYAD.”

 

“He’s my dad,” Zoe says stubbornly. “He wants to talk to me and maybe I can… maybe I can get some information about what’s going on with Connor.”

 

Hannah frowns. “Do you want me to come with you?”

 

Zoe looks tempted, but shakes her head. “He’ll be on guard if you come with me. He’s more likely to say something true if it’s just me.”

 

“I’ll drive you into the city if you want,” Jenny offers. “I’ll keep an eye out for Gus and Evan and Pampushka while I’m at it. Maybe pick up some food for everyone.” She sighs. “It’s going to be a long night.”

 

* * *

 

Evan is a monster. 

 

He’s a monster he’s a monster he’s a monster. 

 

He’s a monster and he will never forgive himself for what he’s about to put Gus through. 

 

He knows Connor won’t forgive him. 

 

He knows Connor well enough to know that he’s going to lose him forever over this.

 

It breaks Evan’s heart. 

 

But at least he’ll be alive. 

 

At least Connor will be alive and safe, even if he never wants to speak to Evan ever again. 

 

He’s sitting in his car with Gus, who’s wolfing down a Big Mac like it’s the last thing he’ll ever eat. 

 

Evan doesn’t want to think about the fact that it might be. 

 

He’s waiting for the go signal from Larry, for confirmation the trade is ready to take place. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. He doesn’t know if he’s making the right decision. 

 

He doesn’t know if he had a decision in the first place.

 

Evan kind of picks at his fries - Gus had insisted he eat something as well, which is more than he fucking deserves right now - and occasionally just turns around and gives a fry to Pampushka, who seems to be enjoying the attention. 

 

Gus is sitting in the backseat, Pampushka on his lap, and every now and then he says something to her in Ukrainian. 

 

Evan remembers something. 

 

“Connor said… he said he was trying to learn Ukrainian?” he asks hesitantly. 

 

“Yes,” Gus says, smiling a little. “He was very bad at it. But he tries hard. Is good like that, my brother Connor. He is good man.” Evan can see his face fall in the rear view mirror. “Will I see him as we swap?”

 

Evan sighs. “I don’t know.”

 

Gus frowns. “If I do not see him, you must tell him that I love him very much, yes? That I make this choice. That he must always listen to heart.” Gus’s face is very, very sad. “This is good advice. For you also, I think.”

 

“We’re going to try to get you out,” Evan says firmly. “We are. This is just… this is just temporary.”

 

Evan thinks he might be lying but he can’t tell. Has he gotten so good at lying that he’s fooling himself now?

 

Gus just smiles crookedly and gives his dog a hug, stroking her fur and going back to his soft words in his native language. 

 

Evan wishes everything were different. He wishes he hadn’t gotten so involved in DYAD. He wishes he’d never left his hometown, never made it to a real university, because from the moment he showed up everything’s been a goddamn mess. 

 

Part of him wishes he’d never met Connor again. Wishes that Connor was only ever that angry boy from high school who died on a park bench with Evan’s letter in his pocket. His fake dead best friend. An idea in Evan’s head, an empty template he could project whatever he wanted onto. 

 

But another part of him can’t bring himself to wish that. 

 

Because Connor is so much more than an idea and an invention and a lie. The Connor Evan knows now is a sarcastic jackass with a flair for the dramatic who’s been through hell and come out the other end slightly singed but gloriously alive, flipping off the devil with a defiant grin. He’s stubborn and he’s passionate and he cares so damn much about his siblings, and especially his twin. 

 

And he loves Evan. 

 

God help him, he loves Evan. 

 

Evan knows Connor will never forgive him for what he’s doing and it breaks his heart. 

 

But he thinks it’s going to break Connor’s heart, too. 

 

Evan’s heart is past broken. 

 

It’s in so many pieces that all that’s left is dust. 

 

How’s he supposed to listen to dust?

 

His phone beeps, and he sees a message from Larry. 

 

He looks at Gus in the rear view mirror. “It’s time.”

 

* * *

 

Connor comes to and can’t really see. It takes him a moment to remember that oh yeah, there was a scalpel heading toward his eye right before he blacked out. 

 

He wonders if he’s missing an eye now. 

 

Maybe he’ll get an eyepatch. 

 

Connor remembers sometime in sophomore year buying some weird shit off his dealer, taking it and then just wandering around the neighborhood until he just… sat down on a bench near a kids’ playground like some kind of fucking psycho. Like, he’d just… sat there. For a couple of hours. Eventually some kids came along, probably about six or seven, and launched into an imaginative game of pretend where they were pirates. 

 

About twenty minutes in, one of the kids had come up to him and, very seriously, told him he needed to pretend to be a sea monster. And, well…

 

He was high off his ass, so he just… kind of did. 

 

Eventually the parents showed up and they seemed a little bit weirded out by this teenager making weird sea creature noises, but the kids were having fun and Connor wasn’t, like, touching them or anything weird, he was just… standing in front of a slide, waving his arms around and occasionally saying something about krakens, much to the utter joy of the small children. 

 

He has no idea why he’s remembering this now. 

 

Connor doesn’t even remember the kids names, though he’s sure they introduced themselves in typical innocent kid fashion. 

 

If he has somehow lost his eye, then he can wear an eye patch and tell kids he’s a pirate. It wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

 

He finds himself laughing. 

 

What the fuck is he talking about. 

 

He’s never getting out of here. 

 

He thinks he hears or sees a door open but he’s not sure until there’s a voice he doesn’t recognize, speaking softly. It sounds female and there’s a weird accent, or like a hint of one, but that could just be the fact that Connor’s being pumped full of fuck knows what right now. 

 

“We’d like to apologize for what happened,” says the voice, a little uncertain. “Your wounds are healing but that line of testing was… unsanctioned.”

 

“What happened to my eye?” Connor asks, realizing his words are slurring. 

 

“It’s beginning to heal,” says the voice. She sounds more human than the others. Like she regrets the whole situation. 

 

“What happened?”

 

“A scalpel was inserted into your eyeball and your eyeball was removed,” says the voice, sounding a little sick. “The bleeding appears to have stopped and your regeneration abilities appear to have kicked in. You should… we can’t be sure how long it will take, but you should have a new eye in a couple of days.”

 

“Jesus fuck.”

 

“I’m sorry,” says the voice. “Can you see me?”

 

“Kind of,” Connor says. He can… kind of make out figures, he’s not sure how this works, but he’s in a lot of pain and he’s dizzy as all hell. 

 

They took out his eyeball. 

 

That fucker took out his eye. 

 

What the actual fuck. 

 

“My name is Kylie McAllistair,” the voice says, clearly trying to sound soothing. “I… I work with Evan Hansen.”

 

Connor jolts. “Evan? You work with Evan? Can I see him?”

 

“He’s not here,” says Kylie, her voice unhappy. “He’s… DYAD won’t let him see you. I’m sorry.”

 

“But they’ll let you see me,” Connor says, slowly getting a better handle on making his mouth move the way he wants it to. “And you’ll see him. So you can tell him that I love him and this isn’t his fault.”

 

It’s not Evan’s fault. 

 

It’s DYAD’s fault. 

 

It’s not Evan’s fault at all. 

 

There’s no response from Kylie for a long moment, and Connor tries to blink to see if he can clear his vision, but it’s just not happening. 

 

“Please,” Connor manages to say before a wave of nausea passes over him and he dimly realizes he might be passing out again. “Just tell him that, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Gus pets Pampushka one last time before leaving her in the car. Evan’s stomach is in knots. He follows Larry’s instructions to the service entrance of the building and finds a man in a suit waiting there. “You must be Evan,” he says, his eyes dark and hard. “And this is the subject.”

 

“Gus,” Evan says sharply. “His name is Gus.”

 

“Mr. Murphy is retrieving the other subject as we speak,” he says, voice harsh. “Don’t know what kind of favors he’s pulled in to make this work, but he’s gone over the head of Mr. Morgan and he doesn’t like it at all.”

 

Evan can’t bring himself to care. “Can I… can I come in and see him? Can I see Connor?”

 

The man shakes his head. “You’re here for delivery, nothing more.” He smiles hollowly. “Mr. Murphy may have pulled in some favors, but you’re still nobody. I’d suggest you say your goodbyes to your subject and get as far away from here as possible.” 

 

“Is okay,” Gus says to Evan, his tone soothing. “You go. You go somewhere safe and you tell Connor I love him when you see him next, yes?”

 

The man puts Gus in handcuffs and Gus turns pale, but his face is resolved. As the man drags Gus through the door and into the building, Evan makes sure to watch Gus the whole time. 

 

He owes it to Gus to make sure he’s seen. 

 

Make sure his sacrifice is seen. 

 

Then Evan heads around the corner, climbs into the backseat of his car and cries into Pampushka’s fur. 

 

He thinks Pampushka might be crying, too.

 

* * *

 

Connor wakes up to find he can see a little bit better. Not completely better, but a little bit better. There’s a brunette woman undoing his restraints and helping him to stand up. He frowns, and nearly falls over as he realizes his legs are like wet noodles. 

 

“You’re going home,” says the woman, and he recognizes the voice from earlier. Kylie. This is Kylie. 

 

“What?” he asks dully. 

 

“DYAD is letting you go,” she says, her voice terse. “Your father arranged it.”

 

Nothing makes sense. “My father?”

 

He can’t really see, but he can make out a tall male figure coming toward him, putting his arm around him and helping him move. “Easy,” says the figure. 

 

He knows this voice. 

 

He hasn’t heard this voice in three and a half years, but he knows this voice. 

 

Larry Murphy. 

 

“What the fuck?” he manages to mumble, focusing on keeping on foot in front of the other. He’s helped into a wheelchair and closes his eyes for a minute as nausea hits. 

 

Then all of a sudden he’s being wheeled down a corridor. He still can’t see what’s going on, but he can tell there are bright lights and they’re going around corners and it’s all a weird maze and then things get a little darker and there’s a bump and he realizes they must be outside. 

 

He hears a car door fling open and a woman’s voice screams. 

 

“What the fuck?” says the woman’s voice, and it takes him a minute to place it. 

 

Zoe.

 

It’s Zoe. 

 

“Help me get him in the car,” says Larry, his voice firm and decisive. 

 

“What the fuck Dad, he’s covered in blood-”

 

“Just get him in the car.”

 

“Oh my god, his  _ eye- _ ”

 

“Zoe, we have to go. We have to get him in this car.” 

 

He’s practically dragged out of the wheelchair and almost poured into the back seat. There’s a new car smell and it’s all overwhelming and he feels like he’s going to be sick but it’s just too much effort to actually do it, so…

 

The car jolts and all of a sudden they’re moving. 

 

Connor has no fucking idea what’s going on. He dimly realizes that someone is holding his hand. “You asshole,” Zoe sobs. “You fucking asshole, you… shit, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, your eye. Dad, we need to get him to a hospital.”

 

“No we don’t,” says Larry, his voice curt. 

 

“Dad. Dad, he’s lost a fucking eye, there’s blood all over him-”

 

“It’s growing back.”

 

Connor can feel the tension in the car. Zoe squeezes his hand tightly and he weakly squeezes back. 

 

“What do you mean it’s growing back?” Zoe asks, her voice dark. “And while we’re at it, why the fuck aren’t you freaking out that Connor’s back from the dead?”

 

“I’ve done plenty of freaking out,” says Larry, voice a little softer. “I found out what was happening at DYAD and I got him out. I didn’t know for sure he was alive-”

  
  


“But you suspected. You knew it was a possibility. Because you know about the clones.”

 

“You know about the clones?” asks Larry sharply. “How long have you know?”

 

“Is it still Saturday? If so, I found out yesterday.”

 

“It’s 3am.”

 

“Okay, so I haven’t even known for 48 hours yet. How long have you known?”

 

“That’s a long story, Zoe-”

 

“Believe me, I am all ears.”

 

There’s a tense silence, and Connor’s fighting to stay conscious and also really wishing he could see a bit better, because he’s sure there are things he’s missing out on, and he needs to know what’s going on and how he got out and what his father knows and it’s so incredibly weird to be here with his father and his sister, three and a half years later. 

 

“I’ll explain more when Connor’s feeling better,” Larry says sharply. 

 

“I need to call Hannah-”

 

“No!” says Larry, and there’s a commotion and at one point Connor gets jostled and cries out in pain and he hears the window being rolled down and…

 

“You _threw_ my _phone_ out the _window_ Dad, what the actual fuck?”

 

“We’re going home,” says Larry firmly. “We’re going home and we’re getting your mother and the four of us are getting as far away from all this DYAD bullshit as we possibly can.”

 

Connor’s got a world of questions. A universe of questions. He wants to ask them but his body isn’t cooperating. 

 

He can hear the hum of the car engine and Zoe’s impassioned questioning as he blacks out again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	77. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gus is at DYAD. The Murphys go home.

There is a bag over his head and it is very dark. 

 

His heart is beating very fast. 

 

But he must be strong. 

 

Gus must be strong to save his brother. 

 

He is being led down a hallway, with many twists and turns, and he cannot see where he is going. 

 

He does not like this. 

 

He thinks about things that are safe and good

 

He thinks about Pampushka and biting into an apple that is crunchy and sweet. 

 

He wants to cry very much but he must be strong. 

 

Gus does not know what will happen to him next, but he does not think it will be good. Torpedo had explained that the reason why Connor was there is because of regeneration. 

 

Gus had to look up the word on his phone to understand but he thinks he knows now. 

 

Regeneration. Making things new. 

 

It is not something he likes to think about but Gus thinks this is something he has also. 

 

When he is young, Tatiana teaches him to carve wings to pay penance, to purify himself and make him holy so God will show his light. 

 

He knows now that this is wrong, this is not of God and that God does not want for his people to suffer in his name. 

 

But he remembers how it feels to carve the wings, to feel the pain. It is a pain of the body, and it makes the pain of the spirit somewhat less. He would carve wings almost every day, until he met Seamus and Connor. 

 

They did not like it when he carved his wings. It would make them sad, and Gus did not like to see them sad. So he would try to hide. Connor found him once, and was very sad. So Gus tried to stop. 

 

When it was just Gus and Seamus, in their home in the country, it was very hard at first. The world was soft and good and there was much food and nice blankets and water and warmth. Very different to the life Gus had known before.  

 

He did not feel like he belonged.

 

It was very hard to give up the pain, but he saw that it made Seamus sad, and he did not want to do this. 

 

Then he had Pampushka, and she was very good, and knew what to do when he was sad. When all he had was dark thoughts. 

 

Things were very dark for Gus for a long time. 

 

One day he stood on Pampushka’s foot and she yelped in pain and he was reminded that he was a monster, a killer, someone who does not deserve the nice soft things like donuts and dogs and sad men with kind eyes who want to help him. So that day, he made a decision that he would repent one last time and purify all, because he did not deserve the good things he had been given. 

 

He did not deserve the good life. Or any life at all. 

 

Gus was trained to kill when he was very young. He knew where to make the cuts. He knew how to kill quickly. So he knew how to die quickly. 

 

He does not remember much after making the cuts, only that Pampushka made much noise, and Seamus came running, and there was very much blood and he was unaware for a long time, but that when all became clear again, Seamus was the saddest Gus had ever seen him, and said he needed help. 

 

Healing his spirit has taken some time, but with help from Seamus and his nice friend who gave him the therapy, his spirit is less broken. He thinks it might always be a little bit broken, but even things that are a little bit broken can still be good. Gus knows this. 

 

He is glad he did not die that day. 

 

But he did not understand why he did not. 

 

He knows how to kill. 

 

For a long time, it is all he knows. 

 

There was no reason why he should not have died, very quickly. He knew where to make the cuts for it to be quick. 

 

Gus thinks that he has the regeneration, too. 

 

It is how he has survived. 

 

Maybe there are many times in his life where he is meant to be dead, but the regeneration has saved him. 

 

The regeneration has saved Connor, too. 

 

He is put on a chair and the handcuffs are only removed as he is strapped to the armrests of the chair. Then the bag is removed and he blinks at the light and looks around. 

 

The room is white but there is blood on the floor. 

 

Very much blood. 

 

It is his twin’s blood, he realizes. It is Connor’s blood. 

 

He has not had the chance to see Connor, and this makes him sad, and seeing his twin’s blood on the floor makes him feel sick, but there is satisfaction in knowing that Connor is not here. 

 

Which means that Connor must be safe. 

 

Of course, he does not know this for certain. But he has faith that Evan has gotten Connor out and back to the hotel where he will be safe. 

 

Gus thinks of Connor and hopes he will be forgiving of Evan and the choice he has made. 

 

He thinks of Seamus and hopes he will understand why Gus has also made the choice. 

 

And he thinks of Pampushka.

 

He would like her to be here next to him, with her wet nose and soft fur, to keep him happy and safe. 

 

But this is a place of blood and pain. 

 

Not a good place for a dog. 

 

He remembers when his spirit was most broken. It was Pampushka who brought Seamus to save him. She made much noise and spent much time by Gus’s side. He remembers how wrong it felt to see Pampushka’s white fur stained with red. 

 

He would not want this for her again. 

 

In the last summer, Connor helped Gus wash dogs for a little while. He was not very good at it, but he tried. 

 

Gus hopes he remembers to be careful of Pampushka’s eyes when giving her bath. She does not like it when there is shampoo in her eyes. 

 

That is fair, Gus thinks. Neither does Gus. 

 

There is a woman standing in front of him. She has dark hair and she is staring at him with an expression he recognizes. 

 

It is one of fear. 

 

Many times, people have looked at him with fear. 

 

“Hello August,” she says. Her voice is a little strange - not quite American, he thinks. Maybe from somewhere else, but not completely. “My name is Dr. McAllistair. I’ll be supervising you while you’re here.”

 

“I like to be called Gus,” he says. Maybe if he is friendly and is nice, she will be more gentle. 

 

He does not think so, however. 

 

“Alright,” she says, her expression not changing. “Gus. I have your file. There’s not a lot we know about you, except that you’ve murdered seventeen of your clones.”

 

“Actions I regret,” he says simply. “I was told it would help me see God. I now know this is not true.”

 

“Seventeen of them,” says the doctor, frowning. “Seventeen people with your face. That’s… that’s a whole new kind of fratricide. Do you know that word? Fratricide?”

 

“The killing of brothers,” Gus replies, feeling his heart hurt. “I did not know. It does not excuse, this is true, but I did not know. I was taught they were demons. From very young, I was taught this.”

 

Her expression does not change at all. “I was hesitant when they brought in Connor,” she says, crossing her arms. “I had my doubts about testing on an innocent clone. Even if would heal all the others. But you…” Her voice trails off, and Gus sees that her expression does change now. 

 

He recognizes this. 

 

It is the look of disgust. 

 

“No one is truly innocent,” Gus says quietly. “But I work to atone for my sins.”

 

The doctor laughs a little. “You can’t atone for your sins, August. Not really. You’re a murderer and you’re never going to be anything but a murderer. But maybe you can help cure your remaining brothers. The ones you haven’t killed yet.”

 

“What must be done?” Gus asks. 

 

Her face looks like steel, somehow. Cold and dark and unyielding. “We see how far your abilities will take you.” She takes his arm, rolls up his sleeve and inserts a needle into his arm, then hooks it up to a bag on a stand. Gus starts to feel dizzy and then very tired. “We’ll start in the morning,” she says, her voice beginning to grow dim to Gus’s ears. “In the meantime, I’m keeping you sedated so you don’t break free and kill us all.”

 

* * *

 

When Connor opens his eyes, he can see a little better, but it’s still not great. It’s like he’s missing a whole bunch of depth perception. 

 

Probably makes sense, seeing that he’s missing an eye. 

 

Zoe’s still holding his hand, and she squeezes it as she seems him respond. “You’re awake,” she says gently. “How… are you okay, Jesus fuck?”

 

“Head hurts like a bitch,” he manages to say, a little weakly. “And, you know… I’m missing an eye. How are you?”

 

“So fucking mad at you.”

 

Connor snorts. “Fair enough.” He frowns. “Where are we?”

 

Zoe bites her lip. “Dad’s taking us home. We’re getting Mom and… doing something, I don’t know.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “Nope. Nope, we’re not doing that. I need to talk to Evan. Give me your phone.”

 

“Dad threw it out the window.”

 

“Once we’re safe I’ll let you call Evan from my phone,” says Larry firmly from the front seat. “But only once we’re safe.”

 

“And why should I go anywhere with you?” Connor snaps. “We haven’t seen each other in three and a half years.”

 

“Because you’re my son and I want to keep you safe.”

 

“You’ve done a bang-up job so far,” Connor shoots back with a roll of his… eye. That hurt. He won’t do that again. 

 

“There are plenty of things I regret-” Larry begins, but Zoe cuts him off. 

 

“Not the time, Dad. You need to tell us how you got Connor out.”

 

Connor frowns. “How did you get me out?” he wonders. “That… Dominic Morgan, he said his name was. He really fucking enjoyed torturing me, I doubt he’d just let you waltz in and take me out.”

 

“Dominic Morgan is a spoilt brat with a God complex who DYAD has let run wild for far too long,” Larry says, his tone clearly irritated. “I have connections with Topside. People much, much higher up in the organization than Dominic Morgan. He has… DYAD has given him the illusion of power to keep his ego in check, but there are plenty of forces at work that are more influential than him.”

 

“What did it take?” Zoe asks sharply. “What did it take to convince them? Connor’s right - you can’t just waltz in, even if someone owes you a favor. From what Reed and Torpedo were saying… Connor’s got some sort of healing power, it could… it’s a really fucking big deal, they won’t just let that go.”

 

“I had to give them something in return,” Larry says tersely. “It’s not important.”

 

“I think it is,” Zoe insists. “What did you give them?”

 

Connor aches all over. His chest is sore, his arm is sore, his eye is sore, he’s been pumped full of a truly ridiculous amount of drugs and every time the car even slightly bumps he’s hit with a new wave of pain, so he almost doesn’t care what Larry’s answer to that question is until…

 

“Connor has a twin brother with the same abilities,” Larry says quietly. “Evan confirmed that the twin had been found. DYAD agreed to a swap - August is in their custody and Connor goes free.”

 

This can’t be happening. 

 

This cannot be happening. 

 

Connor’s head is spinning and his heart is dissolving and he wants to start screaming and he has to stop this and he has to get out. He goes for the door of the car and opens it. 

 

Zoe screams and climbs over him and closes it. He wants to fight her and get out of the car and go back and save his brother but he can barely stand, he can barely move, he…

 

“Fuck you!” he screams as loud as he can. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

 

Zoe’s crying now, Connor realizes. “Connor-”

 

“He doesn’t fucking deserve this,” Connor yells. “He’s been through enough in his life, he doesn’t… he doesn’t fucking deserve this. What the fuck did you do. What did you do? Did you track him down and fucking kidnap him like DYAD did to me?”

 

“He came in of his own volition,” Larry replies, his voice a little shaky. “Evan brought him in.”

 

Connor’s heart stops. 

 

It actually stops.

 

Evan. 

 

Evan did this. 

 

Evan gave DYAD Gus. 

 

“You’re full of shit,” Connor hisses. “Evan didn’t… he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that to Gus. He wouldn’t do that to me.”

 

“Gus?” Zoe says, something seeming to have clicked. “That sweet guy with the dog who gave me a hug when I first met him? DYAD has him? They’re going to… they’re going to fucking cut him open like they did with Connor? Dad, what the fuck?”

 

“Gus is Evan’s friend,” Connor insists. “Gus likes Evan. Evan likes Gus. They’re… they get along, they’re… Evan wouldn’t… he just wouldn’t, you made him do this. Did you threaten him? Did you… what the fuck Larry, what the fuck did you do to Evan to make him agree to this?”

 

“Evan made a difficult decision to save  _ you _ ,” Larry snaps. “He didn’t want to, that much was obvious. But he made the call to get you out of there. He probably saved your life.”

 

“He gave them Gus,” Connor finds himself repeating under his breath. “He gave them Gus?”

 

Gus in that chair, having his finger chopped off.

 

Gus being stabbed in the lung. 

 

Gus being tortured. 

 

Gus in a cage, covered in bleach. 

 

Gus cutting wings on his back with a blade. 

 

That phone call, that awful phone call where Seamus called him in tears, telling him that Gus had tried to kill himself and very nearly succeeded. 

 

Connor would fall apart if anything happened to Gus. 

 

Gus is a part of him. 

 

Gus is…

 

“Gus is my twin,” he says weakly. “He’s my brother. He’s… I have to get him out of there, I can’t let him suffer in my place. Take me back. Put me back and get him out.”

 

“I’m not doing that,” Larry says firmly. 

 

“I’m not fucking kidding Larry, take me back!”

 

“We’re nearly home,” Larry says, turning a corner. Connor doesn’t recognize the street, but he vaguely recognizes the neighborhood. 

 

Vaguely. 

 

It’s not the house he grew up in. 

 

Dimly he remembers Evan saying that his family moved. 

 

It finally clicks. “Why are we here?” he demands. “Why… what the fuck Larry, have you… you’re just going to drag me in there and give Mom a heart attack that I’m alive?”

 

Zoe looks uncertain. “Dad, we need to float this a whole lot softer-”

 

“We don’t have time,” Larry says sharply. He drives into a garage and gets out of the car as the garage door finishes closing. Then he opens the side of the door Connor’s sitting at and reaches in to help him out. 

 

Connor pulls back. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

 

Larry looks like he’s been slapped. Zoe sighs. “I’ll help him, Dad,” she says gently, and comes around the side to help Connor out of the car. 

 

Connor’s dizzy as hell and he can barely put one foot in front of the other, but Zoe’s at his side, supporting him as he slowly walks through the door from the garage into the house as Larry goes ahead. 

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Connor asks faintly. “You hate me.”

 

“Oh, I definitely hate you,” Zoe says, gritting her teeth. “I hate that you faked your own death and I hate that you got yourself kidnapped by a group of psychos and that my girlfriend works for them and Dad’s apparently been with them for years. And I definitely hate that every single other person I’ve met with your face has been, like, a billion times nicer than you ever were to me.” She blinks. “Except maybe Lucas.”

 

Connor snorts. “Lucas is an asshole.”

 

“So are you.”

 

“We’re mutually accepting of each other’s assholery,” Connor says, wincing a little as they turn a corner. He looks at Zoe for a long moment as they walk. 

 

She looks older than he remembers. 

 

Not that this should be a surprise. It’s been three and a half years. 

 

Her face has harsher angles than he remembers, like she’s lost some of the softness around her jaw. She’s a little thinner than he remembers, too. She’s got bangs now. She’s wearing her hair in a braid and it makes him remember when they were kids and he used to braid her hair and that one time he got back from rehab and she asked if he wanted her to braid his hair and he threw a phone at her and…

 

“I should have said yes.”

 

Zoe blinks. “What?”

 

“When you asked if you could braid my hair? I should have said yes.”

 

Zoe looks startled. Connor regrets saying anything. “I was just… thinking about a thing, it was ages ago, it doesn’t matter, we don’t have to-”

 

“I remember,” she says simply, and leads him down another corridor. 

 

There’s a scream. 

 

Zoe’s eyes widen, and she tightens her grip on Connor and practically drags him down the corridor, as fast as she can when she’s supporting both of their weights. Connor wills his useless limbs to contribute and they finally get to the living room to see Larry kneeling on the floor in front of an armchair, where Cynthia Murphy is sitting, pale and shivering, blood pouring from her abdomen. 

 

“Someone came in,” Cynthia chokes out. She hasn’t noticed Zoe and Connor yet. “They came in and told me to tell you… Dominic doesn’t… he didn’t appreciate being overruled. I… I tried to call 911 but I couldn’t… I could get to my phone, so I’ve been putting on pressure and… I’m so sorry, darling, I’m so sorry, I don’t…”

 

“Mom,” Connor chokes out, and Zoe helps drag him over to where Cynthia is sitting. Her eyes widen, but they’re hazy and unfocused and Connor’s very, very aware that she’s lost a lot of blood. It’s in a pool all around her. 

 

“Connor?” she says, eyes wide and wondering. “Sweetheart, what are you… I’m dying, aren’t I? I didn’t… there were things I… oh, it’s so good to see you and I love you so, so, so much, Connor, I…”

In a surge of energy, Connor leans down and grabs his mother into a hug. “You’re going to be okay,” he assures her. “It’s not your time yet. It’s not, I promise, I… I love you too and I’ve missed you so, so, so much and I’m so, so, so, so sorry I hurt you, I never wanted to hurt you-”

 

“I should have protected you,” Cynthia sobs. “I should have saved you, I should have done something, I could see you were suffering, I just… I should have done something and I’ll never… I’ll never stop regretting it, I… I love you so much, Connor.”

 

“Mom,” says Zoe, her voice shaky and wide. “Mom. It’s really Connor. You’re not… you’re not dying, you’re not fucking allowed to die, I won’t fucking let you.”

 

Larry’s on his phone. Connor dimly realizes that he’s calling 911. 

 

Connor pulls away and dimly realizes he’s covered in blood. Zoe pulls her mother into a hug, putting pressure on the wound on her stomach. “Mom. Mom, you’re not… Mom, you need to stay with me, okay? Stay with us. Stay with me and Dad and Connor, because it’s really Connor, Mom, you’re not… you’re not fucking dying, it’s really Connor.”

 

“I’m so proud of you,” says Cynthia fondly, kissing Zoe on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you and I want you to be happy and healthy and keep being brave and opening your heart and I’m… I just love you so much.”

 

“You’re not dying,” Zoe says stubbornly. “Mom. You’re not dying.”

 

She looks up at Connor, who can barely see now through the busted eye and his tears. 

 

This is his fault. 

 

This is his fault. 

 

This is all his fault. 

 

“I love you both more than you could possibly…”

 

Zoe shrieks as Cynthia’s eyes go dim, frantically searching for a pulse. Larry bursts into deep, gut-wrenching sobs. 

 

And Connor…

 

Connor can’t even think anymore. 

 

“There’s an ambulance on its way,” Larry says finally. “Connor can’t… he can’t be here.”

 

“Give me your keys,” says Zoe firmly. 

 

Larry obliges, and before Connor can really understand what’s going on, he’s being dragged down the hallway again to the garage and shoved into the passenger seat of the car.

 

Zoe pulls out of the garage and drives off into the night, openly sobbing and swearing and Connor wants to do something or say something or insist they turn around and help but he can’t quite fight the blackness that’s coming for him. 

 

He loses consciousness to the sound of Zoe’s sobs. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :) 
> 
> And check out PART 5 in One of a Kind, "That Secret That We Know" by chchchchcherrybomb for maximum Murphy family feels.


	78. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation.

Evan can’t go home. 

 

He can’t go back to the hotel. 

 

He can’t go anywhere. 

 

He’s not heard anything from Larry to confirm they got Connor out okay and he’s turned off his clone phone because…

 

They’re going to find out what he did. 

 

And they’re going to hate him. 

 

So he and Pampushka drive to the far edge of town, the opposite side from the hotel, and settle near a park. Evan walks around the park with Pampushka for a while, then lets her off her leash to run around for a bit and sits on a park bench. 

 

He kind of has to laugh at the irony of sitting on a park bench. 

 

For years, he’s thought about Connor Murphy dead on a park bench just like this one, with a haircut and a stomach full of sleeping pills and a letter to Evan in his pocket. 

 

He’s thought about what it must have felt like to die, alone and cold in a park, with no one around. 

 

He’s thought about how long he lay at the bottom of that tree with a broken arm and a broken heart, only to eventually just… get up because no one was going to find him. 

 

No one found Evan when he jumped. 

 

No one found Connor when he swallowed those pills

 

Except, as he now knows, it wasn’t Connor. 

 

Connor doesn’t like talking about it. He doesn’t like talking about Ben Childs and that night in the park, and Evan doesn’t press. The most he’s ever heard Connor talk about it was when Zoe showed up at Evan’s apartment, and Connor just… talked and talked and talked to his sister, willing her to understand, only for her to run off. 

 

Connor ran after her because Evan told him to.

 

Connor got captured and it’s Evan’s fault. 

 

Maybe DYAD’s killed him. 

 

Maybe DYAD just has both twins in custody now and went back on their word. 

 

Maybe Evan’s made the biggest mistake of his life and it was all for nothing. 

 

There’s a tree in this park that looks tall enough to climb. 

 

Tall enough to climb to the top and just… let go. 

 

He feels like that thought should affect him more. He hasn’t felt like this since high school. He’s been doing better. He’s been working hard. He’s been taking medication and seeing a therapist and working really, really hard on his mental health. 

 

Except recently he hasn’t. 

 

He hasn’t found a therapist in town and it’s been months since he arrived. 

 

He needs a refill on his antidepressant. He stopped taking it sometime after Christmas. 

 

He’s just been… 

 

Busy. 

 

Busy with the cure, busy with Connor, too busy to deal with the reminder that his brain is fucking broken and he needs something to keep it from backfiring on him and…

 

It doesn’t really matter now anyway. 

 

Pampushka pads toward him and nuzzles at his hand then barks a little. 

 

Evan’s got a dog to look after. Gus’s dog. He can’t jump out of a fucking tree to his death right now because he’s got to look after this dog. 

 

He owes Gus that much. 

 

He drives around until he finds a 24 hour supermarket, then buys the fanciest dog food he can find and a bowl and also a bottle of water. Then he and Pampushka go back to the park and he puts out food and water for Pampushka, who eats happily, then does her business behind a tree, then comes up to Evan again and just… nuzzles his hand again. 

 

Evan curls up on a park bench and Pampushka settles in next to him. 

 

He stares at the sky. 

 

It might be almost dawn. 

 

He’s so fucking tired. 

 

He drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

Connor doesn’t remember much of the drive. He’s in and out of consciousness, and only dimly aware of what’s going on. At one point, he wakes up and realizes that they’re parked outside a gas station and Zoe is sobbing, her chest heaving, taking great big gulps of air. He tries to reach out to her but she pulls away and swears at him, then grabs his hand and squeezes it tight. She wipes her face and pulls out of the parking space slowly, and Connor drifts off again. 

 

When he wakes up again, they’re in front of what looks like an old, rundown hotel, and Zoe is shaking him awake and helping him out of the car. 

 

It’s bright, so it’s clearly morning, but Connor’s got no real concept of time right now. His limbs are still, frustratingly, refusing to completely cooperate, so it’s slow going, but Zoe knocks on the front door of this abandoned looking place and all of a sudden, there’s Seamus, who pulls him into a hug, sobbing against his shirt. 

 

“It’s so fucking good to see you,” Seamus says, his voice thick with emotion. “You scared the living shite out of me, son.”

 

“I’m okay, Dad,” Connor says, completely without thinking. It’s not something he calls Seamus very often, but Gus does it all the time and right now… right now he’s just fucking glad Seamus is here. He kind of sees Zoe frown at that from his good eye. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I…” He can’t help it, he bursts into sobs. “DYAD has Gus.”

 

Seamus tenses. He’s very, very still for a long moment. “What?”

 

“We need to get inside,” Zoe reminds them, and Seamus nods and then practically carries Connor into the lobby of this hotel, then puts him down on a sofa and starts assessing Connor for damages, his face pale and his hands shaking. 

 

“Your eye,” Seamus says, sounding like he might throw up any moment. “Fucking hell, your eye. And you’re… you’re covered in blood, son.”

 

“Dad said his eye’s going to grow back,” Zoe says, her voice small. 

 

“Zoe?” comes a panicked voice from across the room. Connor looks to see a short brunette with short hair in a denim jacket come running down a flight of stairs and into Zoe’s arms. 

 

This must be Hannah. 

 

“I wanted to call you,” Zoe says, practically melting into Hannah’s embrace. “But Dad threw my phone out the fucking window. He… he drove us home. Back to Mom and Dad’s house. He wanted us to all… I don’t know, run off, go into hiding, I don’t know. But we got there and…” Zoe bursts into tears again. Big, choking sobs. Connor’s heart is breaking. 

 

“Babe, what happened?” Hannah asks gently. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What’s going on?”

 

“Our mom is dead,” Connor says bluntly. “Dominic had her killed.”

 

“Who’s Dominic?” asks another voice. It takes Connor a moment to realize that it’s Reed, closely followed by Lucas and Donna. “Connor, thank fuck you’re okay.” There’s a pause and Connor can tell Reed’s finally got a good look at him. “Holy fucking shit.”

 

“Dominic’s one of us,” Connor says tiredly. “Another clone. He’s British, he’s an asshole and he stabbed me a bunch of times. Oh and he pulled out my eyeball, so there’s that.”

 

“He pulled out your eyeball?” asks Donna. She actually sounds like she’s about to throw up at that.

 

“Dr. McAllistair seems to think it will grow back,” says Connor tiredly. 

 

“You met Kylie?” Reed asks sharply. “She’s… she’s our boss.”

 

“Kylie let them take out your eyeball?” Hannah asks, her voice incredulous. “That’s… holy shit.” Connor looks over to see that the shorter girl is still holding Zoe. They’ve moved to a couch and Zoe is practically on Hannah’s lap. Hannah’s stroking her hair and kissing her forehead gently and Zoe’s just… gone. She’s just a pile of tears and she’s shaking and Connor is such an asshole because he should have protected her, he should have protected his family from this, even after they thought he was dead he could still hurt them, what the actual fuck.

 

“DYAD has Gus,” Seamus says urgently. “How does DYAD have Gus?”

 

“Larry arranged it,” Connor says. He doesn’t want to say what he has to say next because he wants more than anything for it not to be true. “He says… he says that Evan helped.”

 

The room goes deadly silent, barring the sounds of Zoe’s sobs. “Evan and Gus took Pampushka for a walk yesterday afternoon and never came back,” says another voice. Connor looks around to see that it’s Torpedo, sitting on a sofa not too far away. This vision impairment thing is a massive pain in the ass, he keeps missing things. 

 

His head hurts. 

 

His heart hurts. 

 

“Timeline works out,” says Lucas, his voice a little far away. “He’s not answering any of our calls.”

 

“His clone phone is going straight to voicemail and he’s not answering his regular phone or his DYAD phone,” Hannah confirms. “I’ve, uh, got both those last two numbers. He has a lot of phones, you’d think he could answer one of them.”

 

“Not if he’s in trouble,” Connor says slowly. “Not if he’s been forced to do this.”

 

“You think he’s been forced to do this?” Donna asks, her voice almost… hopeful. “That someone made him betray Gus?”

 

“They wouldn’t have had to,” Lucas counters. He crosses his arms and looks a little defiant. “If DYAD took Donna and offered a trade for her safety, I’d trade in any one of you to save her. Or myself.”

 

Donna’s face softens but she still looks concerned. “Evan’s… he’s not…”

 

“He wouldn’t just turn Gus in without a good reason,” Connor says stubbornly. 

 

Because…

 

He doesn’t believe this. There’s got to be something else. Maybe they threatened his mom. Maybe they threatened… Connor doesn’t fucking know, but there’s got to be something. Something that made Evan do this. Something that made Evan turn on Gus. 

 

“I’ll try calling him again,” Reed says quietly. “I’ll send a message telling him you’re here, maybe that’ll… maybe that’ll get his attention.”

 

Seamus hasn’t said anything but Connor can see that he’s shaking. He can’t tell if it’s from emotion or from fury. He’s produced a first aid kit out of somewhere and is gently wiping the blood off Connor’s face. Connor’s trying not to scream because everything hurts. 

 

“We should get you changed and showered and then to bed,” Seamus says, his voice calm but firm. “You need to recover. You’re… fuck Connor, you’re a mess.” He looks over at Zoe, seemingly wanting to ask something, but Hannah gently shakes her head. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere until I see Evan,” Connor says stubbornly. “Until I get to the bottom of what happened to my twin.”

 

Seamus sighs, then nods and goes back to gently cleaning Connor’s wounds as he tries not to scream. 

 

* * *

 

Evan’s woken up to the bright light of the sun and a dog barking. It takes him a moment to realize he has literally spent the night sleeping on a park bench. There’s a kid kind of looking at him weirdly and he thinks the kid’s mom is behind him and he probably looks like an absolute mess and they’re probably going to call the police because he’s nearly 21 and he’s just spent the night sleeping on a park bench like some kind of creep and...

 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he takes Pampushka and gets into his car and drives until he finds a Dunkin’ Donuts. And that, of course, reminds him of Gus and Connor, so he goes somewhere else and gets a coffee and just… looks at his phones. 

 

There are missed calls from Hannah on his DYAD phone and missed calls from Zoe on his regular phone. 

 

His clone phone is off and he knows it shouldn’t be. 

 

He just… 

 

He knows what’s coming. 

 

Time to be brave. 

 

Evan turns on his clone phone and once it boots up, he’s greeted with dozens of missed calls and hundreds of messages. 

 

Hundreds and hundreds. He can’t bear himself to read them all but he gets glimpses of notifications, all increasingly terrified. 

 

He focus on the most recent one. 

 

It’s from Reed, saying that Connor’s at the hotel and to please, please, please get in touch as soon as he can. 

 

Evan lets out a sigh of relief. 

 

Connor’s at the hotel. 

 

That means he got out of DYAD.

 

That means he’s alive. 

 

Evan finishes his coffee and pets Pampushka and just… thinks. 

 

He’s going to give himself ten minutes in this car before driving to the hotel and letting the remains of his crushed up heart get burned to pieces. 

 

Just ten more minutes. 

 

When the ten minutes have passed, he pulls out of the parking lot and heads to the hotel.

 

* * *

 

Despite his insistence to stay awake until they hear from Evan, Connor’s drifting in and out of sleep. The sofa’s comfortable and he’s tired and he’s in pain. He wakes up at once point to find Zoe curled up next to him, clearly also asleep. Someone’s put a blanket over both of them, and this is probably the closest they’ve been physically since they were kids. 

 

He wants to stay awake, very badly, so he can just enjoy this, because it’s been three and a half years and he has missed his sister so badly, but his body is giving up on him, and he’s asleep once again. 

 

Then he’s woken up by an excited yell. 

 

Zoe jolts next to him and Hannah and Reed bound into the room, their eyes wide. They’re ranting about something, talking over each other, nothing is making any sense and there are so many damn words that Connor doesn’t understand and he’s not quite all there in the head right now but…

 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” says Torpedo slowly from across the room, where he’s also curled up on a couch. “Are you saying you’ve…”

 

“We think we’ve found a cure,” Reed says, their face almost electric with excitement. “Ivy’s working on a treatment now and she’s going to try it on Parker and if it works… we replicate it for you straight away.”

 

Torpedo blinks. “You’re fucking with me. How?”

 

“Hannah’s a genius,” Reed proclaims, voice brimming with pride. “If it weren’t for her breakthrough about the amino acids and-”

 

“No, you were the one who-”

 

They’re talking over each other and they both look so completely shocked and happy, but Connor’s attention is focused on Torpedo. He looks… hopeful.

 

Connor realizes, with a twist in his gut, that he hasn’t seen his clone look hopeful in a very long time. 

 

“Do you think it will work?” Connor asks, a little dazed. “Like, really, legitimately, this is a cure that we can… we can treat the sick clones with? This will save Torpedo?”

 

“There’s testing to do,” Reed admits, “but the science is solid and… if it works for Parker then… holy shit.”

 

Hannah’s glowing with excitement and it’s kind of contagious. Zoe’s on her feet in an instant, takes Hannah’s face in her hands and kisses her like she’d drown if she didn’t, and the big brother part of Connor wants to tease the shit out of them but a bigger part is just… 

 

There’s a cure. 

 

There’s a fucking cure. 

 

Evan’s going to be so…

 

Connor’s heart drops. 

 

And then there’s a knock on the door. Reed, still in a state of euphoria, opens the door and Pampushka bounds in, followed by a tired looking Evan. 

 

The energy in the room drops immediately, and Connor clamors to his feet.

 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Reed blurts out, eyes wide. “We’ve been worried sick about you.” They look at Pampushka and bite their lip. “It’s true, then. You gave Gus to DYAD.”

 

“Reed…”

 

“Gus wouldn’t just abandon his dog, which means that you gave him to DYAD,” Reed says. All trace of their early joy is gone and they look… pissed off. 

 

Connor’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

“I need you to explain,” Connor says quietly. “I need you to explain what made you do this.”

 

Evan stares at him, his eyes wide. “Connor, oh my god, your eye-”

 

“It’ll grow back,” Connor assures him.

 

Evan blinks. “It’ll… grow back.”

 

Connor shrugs. “Well, my finger did.”

 

“What do you mean your finger did?” Zoe asks sharply. “Did those bastards cut off your fucking finger?”

 

Connor nods. He’s so tired. He’s tired and he’s confused and he’s not willing to believe that Evan…

 

That Evan’s betrayed him like this. 

 

“Does DYAD have Gus?” Connor asks quietly. 

 

Evan nods. 

 

“Were you a part of it?”

 

Evan nods again.

 

Connor’s legs can barely support him, but he walks toward Evan as fast as he can. Zoe lets go of Hannah and runs toward him, helping him stay upright, fixing Evan with a harsh look. 

 

“Why?” Connor asks, hating that his voice is cracking. “What did they… what did they do to you to make you do this? Did they… did they threaten your mom? Zoe? Reed? You? Did they threaten to kill you if you didn’t… if you…”

 

“I didn’t want to do it,” Evan says, his voice quiet and heart-breakingly sad. “But I… I gave Gus a choice. I asked him to. I didn’t trick him or get DYAD to black bag him, which is what your dad wanted to do, I asked him. And he said yes.” Evan looks at Connor, eyes pleading. “To save you, he said yes.”

 

“You had no right to ask him to do that,” Connor replies, feeling his cheeks flush with anger. “You know him. You knew he’d… he’s selfless and he’s good and he… who made you do this, Evan? What did they do to make you do this?”

 

“They took you and they told me their plans for you,” Evan replies. He sounds so resigned. “They didn’t threaten me or anyone else, they just… they told me what they were planning to do to you. And I couldn’t let that happen.”

 

“But you could let it happen to Gus?” Connor asks, struggling to understand. “You could let it happen to my twin?”

 

“I care about Gus,” Evan says, his eyes welling up with tears. “But nowhere near as much as I care about you. You… you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ve always said that.”

 

“I didn’t fucking want this,” Connor snaps. “You don’t… you don’t just get to make these decisions for me.”

 

“They ripped out your eye!” Evan exclaims, his face going paler and paler as he seems to register the sheer amount of blood on his shirt. “You’re… you’re covered in blood, you’re…”

 

“It’s not all his blood,” Zoe snaps. “Someone at DYAD retaliated. They murdered our mom.”

 

Evan stops in his tracks and it looks like he's forgotten how to breathe for a long moment. Part of Connor is freaking out and wants to reach out to him, soothe him, get his breathing back on track and make it better but…

 

“She died in front of me,” Connor says, his voice colder than he realizes. “Not only did you condemn Gus to torture, your actions got our mother killed.”

 

“I… I didn’t… I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m…”

 

“Sorry doesn’t really cut it here,” Connor says sharply. He can tell he’s crying and it hurts his eye, or the space where his eye was or is or is going to be, it’s all confusing and he’s heartbroken. 

 

He’s heartbroken that Evan’s betrayed him like this. 

 

He’s heartbroken that his mother is dead and he never…

 

He never got a second chance with her. 

 

He’s heartbroken at the thought that Gus might be going through exactly what he’s been through and…

 

“I never want to see you again,” Connor says, his voice firm and deliberate. “Give me your clone phone. You’re not part of this anymore.”

 

Evan just stares for a long time, then hands Connor his phone without a word. 

 

Like he knew this was coming. 

 

Like he expected this. 

 

Evan takes a deep breath. “Gus-”

 

“Don’t fucking talk to me about Gus.”

 

“He wanted me to tell you that he loves you,” Evan continues anyway. 

 

“Don’t. Fucking. Talk. To. Me. About. Gus.”

 

“And he wants you to look after Pampushka-”

 

“Evan.” It’s Reed who interrupts this time. Their face is pale and very, very sad, but they take Evan’s arm and lead him toward the door. 

 

Connor can’t help himself. “Reed and Hannah found the cure.”

 

Evan stops in his tracks. “What?”

 

Connor stares Evan down the best he can with one eye. “They found the cure. All those months of working on it, and Hannah gets there straight away once she’s got all the information.” He laughs coldly. “Everything you did, all this shit you let DYAD put you through, the monster you let them make you and you just kept justifying to yourself that you were doing it for me. For the cure.” 

 

Evan’s openly crying now. “Connor-”

 

“I guess it made you feel important, being part of this big science organization,” Connor continues, “but you know what? You weren’t even useful. All that work, all that stress, all that effort and someone better came along and did what you couldn’t do.”

 

“That’s not fair,” says Hannah, her voice quiet and wavering. “If it weren’t for the base work-”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Connor says firmly. “DYAD played you. They played you and you just went along with it because… you wanted to feel like you were a part of something, isn’t that right Evan? You just wished you were part of something? That’s what you said. All those years ago.”

 

Zoe’s frowning now, looking confused and Connor tries to reign himself in, because that’s not a revelation Zoe needs right now. Evan’s eyes are wide and terrified, and Connor can tell that he’s so, so close to falling apart, and there’s a part of him that wants to go to him and tell him he didn’t mean any of it, but there’s another part that just wants him to hurt. 

 

Wants him to hurt the way he’s hurt him. 

 

“You got so caught up in playing the hero that you lost all perspective and now you’re the villain,” Connor spits out. “I am not your fucking damsel in distress, Evan Hansen. And thank fuck for that.”

 

“Connor, that’s enough,” says Reed gently. 

 

“It’s nowhere near enough,” Connor says, moving toward Evan but feeling his body disagree. Zoe clings to him before he can hit the ground and Hannah’s on his other side, and they escort him to the sofa, and Reed escorts Evan out of the building, and Connor just…

 

Connor just breaks down and sobs on Zoe's shoulder until he blacks out again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	79. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan goes back to work.

Gus wakes up and feels like there is a fog in his head. And he is frightened. 

 

He is so frightened. 

 

He opens his eyes and he can smell it. 

 

He can smell the bleach. 

 

He knows that it is bleach and it is for cleaning, that it is not holy water for burning his sins. 

 

He knows this in his head. 

 

But in his spirit, he is in the past. 

 

It is cold and it is wet and it burnsburnsburns and there is metal and pain and the words of the Bible and he is far from the light he is so far from the light there is dark everywhere and he is burning he is burning like the sinner he is - 

 

He can’t stop screaming. 

 

He can’t stop screaming because he is in the past.

 

And the past is full of horrors. 

 

There are people coming into the room as he screams and there is metal and pain and the words of the Bible and if he says the right words then maybe it will stop, maybe it will all stop and he will stop burning -

 

There is something sharp in his neck and he is plunged into darkness. 

 

* * *

 

Reed walks into the DYAD building on Monday morning, absolutely exhausted but determined to keep up their cover. They’re not sure what they’re going to say to Evan, or if Evan will try to talk to them, or what they’re going to tell Kylie but they still feel like they should be there. 

 

The rest of the group had agreed.

 

“If you walk in like everything’s normal, they might believe you weren’t involved,” Torpedo had said firmly. “And without Evan… we need all the DYAD intel we can get if we want a chance at getting Gus out.”

 

“Exactly,” said Seamus firmly. He’d been grim ever since Evan had left, and while he hadn’t engaged with Evan at any point, it was fairly obvious he was simmering with rage. 

 

Whereas Connor…

 

After Connor had finished yelling at Evan, he’d cried on Zoe and eventually blacked out, and between Lucas and Seamus, they’d managed to put him to bed. Seamus had changed his shirt into something soft and warm he’d gotten from Gus’s bag and Pampushka had curled up on the bed next to Connor for protection. 

 

Zoe hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, but Seamus had assured them that if anything went wrong, Pampushka would come get them. 

 

“She’s a good dog,” Seamus said, voice thick with emotion. “When Gus… whenever Gus wasn’t doing well, she’d come get me and I’d… I’d protect him.”

 

Lucas and Donna had gone home, both feeling like there was nothing else they could really contribute for now, but promised to return once there was a solid plan for retrieving Gus if there was anything they could do. As for Torpedo and Jenny, they were on their way to California to stay with Parker and Ivy for a while, as it would make sense to be treating both patients together. 

 

Zoe, however, had flat out refused to leave Connor, and Hannah had refused to leave Zoe, so Hannah called in sick for the week at DYAD and Torpedo forged a medical certificate just in case. 

 

As for Seamus…

 

Well, he clearly isn’t going anywhere until Gus is safe and sound. 

 

Reed’s just through the gates when all of a sudden they’re being escorted into a meeting room by security. Their heart drops and they’re terrified for a long moment that something is going to go very, very wrong. There’s Dr. Dubois, plastic smile on his face. 

 

“Sorry for the short notice,” says Dr. Dubois, “but there’s been a development over the weekend and the internship program you and Ms. Weiss have been involved with has had to shut down. We’re aware that this was to be a full year internship, so we will be paying you out in full for the year, but unfortunately we cannot allow you to return to the lab or continue your research. We will be contacted Ms. Weiss later today to let her know.” He smiles that fake smile. “Of course, we will consider you if there are further openings at the Institute, as this is by no means a reflection on your performance. You’ll be receiving full redundancy information via email later today.”

 

With that, they’re escorted off the premises. As they’re being escorted, they see Evan entering the building. He looks rougher than Reed has ever seen them and his eyes are wide and terrified, but no one seems to be stopping him as he makes his way into the heart of the building. 

 

It looks like Evan’s internship is continuing. 

 

It looks like Evan is DYAD through and through.

 

* * *

 

Evan’s shaking by the time he gets to his regular lab, where Kylie is working on something quietly at a table. She looks up when he enters and nods, then goes back to what she’s doing. 

 

“They took out his eyeball,” Evan blurts out. “They took out Connor’s eyeball.”

 

Kylie sighs then turns to give Evan her full attention. “That wasn’t… that wasn’t supposed to happen. Dominic wasn’t given clearance to do that and Topside are… well, they’re pretty pissed. He’s still pouting somewhere, as far as I know.”

 

“He’s not just pouting,” Evan says darkly. “He… he murdered Cynthia Murphy.”

 

He knows for sure Cynthia is dead now. It’s all over the news in his hometown, and he got a call from his mother late last night to let him know. It had been… harrowing, to say the very least. 

 

He’s so scared for his mom. 

 

Evan is so fucking scared for his mom. 

 

Kylie goes pale. “Topside aren’t going to like that,” she says firmly. “Larry Murphy is… well, he’s important to the organization.” Her expression softens. “But I’m glad you got Connor out.”

 

Evan closes his eyes and imagines Connor’s face. 

 

The look on his face as he yelled and screamed at him. 

 

The things he said. 

 

All true. 

 

All of it true. 

 

“I guess you know what I did,” Evan says finally. 

 

“Yes,” Kylie says simply. Evan opens his eyes and sees that Kylie looks… impressed. 

 

That just makes Evan feel worse. 

 

“I had to,” Evan says desperately. “Connor… Connor will never forgive me for this. He’s… we’re done. We’re over. It’s… it’s done.”

 

Kylie just stares at him for a moment, her face terribly sad. “You did the right thing, Evan. He… he’ll come around, he’ll realize that you saved him.”

 

“No,” Evan argues, shaking his head furiously. “He and Gus… they’re close. They’re really close. He’ll never forgive me. He said so himself.”

 

Evan doesn’t want to think about the things Connor said. 

 

All true. 

 

Every single word of it true.

 

He’d let himself be made into monster. 

 

He’d let himself get caught up in feeling important. 

 

But he wasn’t smart enough, talented enough, driven enough to find the cure, even after everything. 

 

Hannah had the breakthrough. 

 

Hannah found the cure. 

 

Everything Evan’s done, everything he’s sacrificed, everything he’s put himself through - put Connor through - was all for nothing. 

 

There’s no point to any of this anymore. 

  
There’s no point to anything. 

 

“August killed seventeen clones,” Kylie says flatly. “Seventeen. The first clone he killed when he was only thirteen. Which means that at thirteen, he killed a thirteen year old who looked exactly like him. He’s a dangerous murderer. We’re doing the world a favor by keeping him locked up here.”

 

“Are we doing the world a favor by keeping Yorick locked up here?” Evan asks. He’s so tired. 

 

Kylie recoils as if slapped. “You know that’s different-”

 

“Gus is a dog groomer,” Evan says. “He likes donuts. He loves his dog. And he loves Connor. He… when he was a kid, he was brainwashed and tortured into killing his clones. Do you know what they used to do to him? They used to lock him in a cage and throw bleach on him. They told him it was holy water. They told him that burning him with bleach would… would cure him of the demons inside of him. He didn’t… he wasn’t just some unstable kid who liked to murder, he was tortured into it.”

 

Kylie blinks. And then a look of realization crosses her face. “He had some kind of… attack downstairs,” she says, almost matter-of-factly. “While he was sedated and unconscious, cleaners came in and got rid of the blood from… from Dominic’s attack on Connor.”

 

Evan clicks. “And they used bleach and he smelled it when he woke up and freaked out.” There’s a feeling of panic rising up in him. “Kylie, that’s… that’s going to… he knows that bleach is bleach and not holy water now but there’s so much… there’s so much trauma attached to that, he gets… he gets really bad flashbacks, Connor told me about them and… it’s not fair. You can’t… just please don’t use bleach around him, okay?”

 

Kylie’s expression doesn’t change. “That’s good to know.”

 

Evan’s eyes widen. “Kylie. Kylie, please.”

 

“Seventeen clones, between the ages of thirteen and seventeen,” says Kylie firmly. “Seventeen kids. He doesn’t deserve to even be alive.”

 

Evan thinks of Gus and his insistence that he needs to atone. The whispered late night conversation where Connor told Evan all about Gus’s struggle to forgive himself for what he’d been made to and how he’d even tried to take his own life to make amends.

 

Evan thinks about Gus at the lake house, bringing over a hundred donuts for the group. Making breakfast. Making dumb jokes and playing with his dog. Seeing him with Connor and how relaxed and comfortable Connor had been around his twin. 

 

Gus talking Evan down from a panic attack with his soft words and patience. 

 

_ “You are good man,” _ Gus had insisted. 

 

Evan knows that’s not true.

 

“He’s already tortured himself over it enough,” Evan pleads. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t deserve this.”

 

Kylie’s eyes flash with anger. “You’re right,” she says coldly. “He deserves much worse.”

 

* * *

 

Seamus is in the lobby talking to Zoe and Hannah when Reed shows up at the hotel, much earlier than expected. He frowns at their arrival. 

 

“Guess who just got let go from their internship?” Reed says, their tone weary. 

 

Seamus’s heart plunges into his stomach. He’s been counting on access to DYAD from Reed to get Gus out and now… 

 

Shit. 

 

“Fuck,” says Zoe, her eyes wide. She looks at Hannah. “Have you-”

 

“They’ll be calling you today to tell you the same thing,” Reed says, sitting down on the sofa next to Seamus. “Don’t worry, apparently we’re getting paid out for the year.”

 

Hannah’s eyes widen cartoonishly. “A year?” she says, clearly disbelieving. 

 

“A year,” Reed confirms. 

 

Pampushka comes up to Seamus and gives him a nuzzle, which he’s grateful for. He’s fond of the pup and has never once regretted adopting her. Not after how much she’s helped Gus. Not after she woke Seamus up in the middle of the night when Gus tried to…

 

He’s got to get Gus back. 

 

He has got to get Gus back. 

 

“How’s Connor?” Reed asks, frowning a little. 

 

“Still in and out,” Zoe says, her tone worried. “I looked in on him earlier and he was kind of awake but not for long. He’s…” her face falls as she continues. “He’s fucking heartbroken. He’s missing an eye and he’s heartbroken.” She rubs at her face. “I am so fucking worried about him.”

 

“He just needs time,” Reed says gently. 

 

Seamus’s heart races just a little. Time is exactly what Gus doesn’t need. The longer he’s there, the more damage they can do. Gus might be able to withstand more physical abuse than Connor but mentally? He’s a lot more damaged. Seamus isn’t sure if Gus will come out of this unscathed and it breaks his heart he wasn’t able to protect him. 

 

He could never swap one of his boys for the other. 

 

He could never do that. 

 

“We need a way into DYAD,” Seamus says firmly. “I’m going to need to work on that.”

 

Reed’s face falls. “Seamus, I’m sorry.”

 

“Not your fault. None of this is your fault. I’ll… I’ll make it work, alright? I’ll make it work.”

 

* * *

 

Evan leaves DYAD on his lunch break and eats a sandwich under a tree in a park. Not the same park he slept in a few nights back, a different park. It’s nice. It’s green. It’s still chilly as it’s not quite spring, but it’s good to be outside. 

 

He should have just stuck with plants. 

 

He doesn’t belong in a genetics study. 

 

He looks at the phones in his messenger bag. Down to three, which is a blessing, he supposes. 

 

But no clone phone. 

 

No way to contact Connor. 

 

Not that Connor wants to hear from him. 

 

He misses Connor so much it physically hurts. It’s like someone ripped out his heart. 

 

He stares at his ESM phone. 

 

His ESM phone. 

 

He unlocks it and dials the only contact. 

 

It takes a while to answer, but eventually he hears a British accent. “Evan?” 

 

“Charles,” he says evenly. “Or do you want me to call you Beanpole? I don’t know.”

 

“Beanpole is fine,” says the clone with a small laugh. “You’ve never called before. What’s happening? I heard… I heard from Torpedo that DYAD had Connor.”

 

That’s news to Evan. “You know about Connor?”

 

“Well, I thought he was Ben Childs, but I know now. Is he alright?”

 

“He’s out, but he’s in pretty bad shape,” Evan says, trying to keep his voice from sounding as devastated about everything as he feels. “I, uh, I made a mistake. I… I have a DYAD contact and we arranged to swap another clone for Connor and… I made a mistake and I don’t know how to fix it, I…”

 

“Evan,” says the voice gently. “Who did you swap?”

 

“Gus.”

 

“Who’s Gus?”

 

“Connor’s twin.”

 

“Connor has a twin? Connor’s… Connor’s one of the twins?” Beanpole sounds a little surprised. “Goodness. We all really need talk more, don’t we.”

 

“There’s another thing you need to know,” says Evan. “Are you in touch with Torpedo? Or any of the others? They don’t… they don’t trust me now, but they told me they’ve found a cure. And if they’ve found a cure then…”

 

“If they’ve found a cure then maybe it’s time to take out DYAD,” says Beanpole slowly. “Are you sure about this cure?”

 

“Talk to Torpedo,” Evan replies. “Double-check it. I… I’m not… after Gus, they… they don’t trust me, and I understand that, I really do. But if you’re taking down DYAD, I want in. I’ll help any way I can. Maybe we can… maybe we can solve a couple of problems.”

 

Beanpole’s quiet for a moment. “You want to get Gus out and destroy the place,” he says quietly. “That’s not going to be easy. Or safe. Or something you can do on your own.”

 

Evan rubs his face. “I know. I know that. I just… I don’t care if it’s safe. I’m not… it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

 

* * *

 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Seamus is a desperate man. He’s in the backseat of Evan Hansen’s car, waiting for him to come out of the DYAD building at the end of the day. 

 

He’s not waiting long. Evan gets into the car and drives halfway down the road before Seamus reveals himself. 

 

He sits up and places the barrel of his gun at the base of Evan’s skull. Evan stiffens a little in surprise, but otherwise doesn’t react. “Pull over,” Seamus says darkly. 

 

Evan does as instructed and doesn’t move. Seamus gives it a moment before continuing to really let the fear sink in. 

 

He’s done this before. He’s not proud of it, but he’s done it before. 

 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your brains out right now for betraying my sons.”

 

Evan doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t stutter or stammer or look panicked at all. He just looks sad. “There isn’t one. Just kill me if it’ll make you feel better.”

 

Of all the possible reactions, this one Seamus hadn’t expected. He lowers his gun. “Connor would never speak to me again if I killed you.”

 

“He’ll never speak to me again anyway,” Evan says tiredly. He closes his eyes, then turns around and looks at Seamus. “You need a way into DYAD. To save Gus.”

 

Seamus hadn’t expected that either. “Yes. Yes I do.”

 

“This is a DYAD car, “ Evan says. “I don’t know if it’s bugged.”

 

Seamus holds up a small device. “This blocks any listening devices,” he assure Evan. “I came prepared.”

 

Evan nods. “Good. Okay. There’s a plan to burn the whole place to the ground. In the chaos, it’ll be your best chance at getting Gus out. I’ve got someone still working on the details, but… I hoped I’d hear from you.” He hands Seamus a piece of paper. “This is the number of my contact. His name is Beanpole. He’s got a plan.”

 

“And you’re in the thick of it, I’d wager,” Seamus says, raising an eyebrow. “Got to admit, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

 

“I probably don’t,” Evan admits honestly. “I don’t… I’m not brave or heroic, I’m just… I’m just nothing. I’m nothing and it doesn’t matter… none of it matters anymore so if I… if I can just do this one thing, then it doesn’t matter.”

 

Seamus knows what Evan’s saying. He’s got enough experience with depression and mental illness from Gus and Connor and… what Evan’s saying is ringing alarm bells in his head. But those alarm bells… they’re not loud enough to keep him from grabbing any opportunity he has to save Gus. 

 

“I don’t deserve to ask this,” Evan says hoarsely, “but if you do this one thing for me, I will do whatever it takes to get Gus out of DYAD, you have my word. Absolutely anything. Even if it gets me killed.”

 

Seamus doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t like that this kid is so reckless with his life. 

 

But it’s Gus. 

 

It’s his Gus. 

 

“What do you need?” Seamus asks gruffly. 

 

“My mom to be safe,” Evan says simply. “DYAD just killed Connor’s mom. If I… I’m on thin ice with DYAD, I know. I want you to get my mom and help her disappear. I’ll give you money for it. Her name is Heidi Hansen. We have a code phrase so she’ll know that I sent you.”

 

“A code phrase?” says Seamus, a little surprised. “That’s… that’s smart. What’s the code phrase?”

 

“Mini marshmallows.”

 

Seamus blinks. “You’re fucking with me.”

 

“I’m really not.”

 

“Mini marshmallows. Fucking Christ, I’m supposed to meet some random woman and say mini marshmallows. This is a fucking trip.”

 

Evan almost smiles at that. “It was a spur of the moment choice,” he says quietly. He sighs. “Can I drop you off somewhere?”

 

“Just in town,” Seamus says. “I’ll get to where I need to be.” Evan pulls around the corner near a bar and Seamus hesitates for a moment. “You don’t… just don’t take any unnecessary risks, alright?”

 

Evan looks exhausted, the shadows on his faces making him look almost bruised. “I’ll save the risks for when they’re really needed,” he assures him. “As long as you keep my mother safe, I won’t let you down.”

 

Seamus nods, then holsters his gun and exits Evan’s car. He watches as the car drives off into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	80. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Donna have a burger.

Connor lets Donna pick their destination, mostly because she knows what’s around, and he manages to flub his way around town to get to the tiny diner she’s picked. 

 

He’s so mad. 

 

He’s so mad at Lucas’s bullshit parents, treating him like shit when Lucas had only ever towed the fucking line and wasn’t anywhere near as much of a disappointment as Connor had always been, and he’s just…

 

He’s just really fucking mad. 

 

They order food and sit in a booth and Donna kind of looks at him, her expression sad and more than a little surprised. “So that was new,” she says after a while of sitting in silence. 

 

Connor snorts. “Yeah. Guess I just pulled a Lorelai Gilmore.”

 

Donna stares for a moment then her face cracks into a smile. “I fucking knew you were paying attention when I watched all those reruns,” she says, kind of laughing. “You kept saying it was boring and unrealistic and they talked too fast, but you clearly picked something up.” She leans in. “I have literally always thought that your parents are literally Richard and Emily Gilmore.”

 

“Isn’t my mom’s name Ariana?” Connor blurts out stupidly. 

 

Donna kind of stares at him again then cracks up laughing again. “You’d know better than me. She’s your mom.”

 

“She’s kind of shit at it.”

 

Donna’s eyes widen. “Wow, we are really not pulling punches tonight, Lucas Freeman.” She reaches out and takes his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry your parents suck. And… and whatever happens, you know that I love you, right?”

 

“Whatever happens?” Connor replies, a little confused. 

 

Donna’s face falls. “I mean if they kick you out,” she says gently. “That… that could happen.”

 

Oh shit. 

 

Oh shit. 

 

Connor fucked up. 

 

Lucas is going to fucking kill him. 

 

Donna seems to realize Connor’s panicking a little, and squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Lucas. Babe. It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay and I’m here and… my family loves you, my mom would adopt you in an instant and we’d look after you and you could join the soccer team and it’d… it’d be okay, you know? It’d all be fine.”

 

Connor tries to smile but he doesn’t think he’s doing a great job. 

 

Lucas is going to kill him. 

 

They make their way through the meal, Donna chatting a little about her upcoming fundraiser gig, and it’s kind of nice. They have burgers and milkshakes and at the end, they split a piece of apple pie, Donna chatting the whole time about how this pie is nowhere as good as her mom’s, and how Lucas will have to come around for dinner sometime soon to make up for the shitshow that was tonight. 

 

Connor walks Donna to the front door when he drops her off home, which she seems to appreciate. She’s about to go inside when she takes his hand and gently pulls him toward her and Connor’s too shocked to argue or even react when she kisses him, slowly and softly. 

 

It’s just. So. Weird. 

 

When she pulls away, she looks sad and a little confused, but he smiles as best he can and tells her he’ll call her tomorrow. 

 

Then Connor starts the drive back to New Jersey. 

 

When he gets back to Torpedo’s house, it’s well after midnight, and Torpedo’s playing Call of Duty or something like that, Connor’s not really paying attention. Lucas is snoring on the couch and Torpedo’s eating the Doritos Connor bought him when he first arrived on Friday. 

 

“How did it go?” Torpedo asks, immediately putting down his controller at the sight of Connor. 

 

Connor winces. “Could have gone better.”

 

Torpedo’s eyes widen in alarm. “Connor. What did you do?”

 

“I may have… yelled at Lucas’s dad,” he admits. 

 

Lucas chooses this moment to wake up, groggy and hungover and pissed off. “You did what?” he croaks out. 

 

Torpedo looks at Lucas, grinning slightly. “Dude. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

 

“What the fuck is going on?”

 

“Well, you showed up here and got super drunk and Connor had to pretend to be you for a family dinner,” Torpedo says matter-of-factly. “He just got back.”

 

Lucas blinks. “You pretended to be me?”

 

“Yeah, dude.” Connor goes to sit down on the sofa, only for Lucas to leap to his feet. 

 

“What did you do?” Lucas snaps. “What did you say, what did you… holy shit, you’ve ruined everything, haven’t you? You’ve completely ruined my life?”

 

“He didn’t say anything super stupid,” Torpedo says cautiously. “Right, Connor?”

 

Connor winces. “Well…”

 

“Oh my god,” Lucas says, eyes wide. “Did you… you yelled at my dad? No one yells at my dad. I have literally never in my life yelled at my dad.”

 

“Really?” Connor asks, a little incredulous. “You’ve never yelled at your dad? How can you call yourself a teenager if you’ve never yelled at your dad?”

 

“I don’t know how you do things back in whatever swamp you crawled out of,” Lucas says bitterly, “but that is not how my family do things. Oh my god. They’re going to kick me out.”

 

“They’re not going to kick you out,” Torpedo says soothingly. 

 

“If they do, you can go live with Donna,” Connor says, in what’s hopefully a positive tone. “She said so herself.”

 

Lucas’s face contorts with rage. “Did you kiss my girlfriend, Connor?” he demands. 

 

“She kissed me!” Connor protests. “I’m way too gay for that shit.”

 

“Fuck you,” Lucas hisses, and punches Connor in the face. 

 

“Fuck you!” Connor replies, and punches Lucas right back on instinct. 

 

“Both of you sit down and shut the fuck up!” Torpedo says firmly, positioning himself in between the two. Lucas is holding his face and Connor feels a little bad, because drunk Lucas didn’t exactly hit him hard but Connor’s never been one to pull his punches, so… 

 

Oops. 

 

“I can’t believe you punched me,” Lucas grumbles. 

 

“Hey, you punched me first!”

 

“Okay,” says Torpedo firmly. “It’s late and you’re both idiots. Lucas, you can sleep on the couch. Connor, you can crash with me, you’ve done it before.”

 

Connor blinks. “I have?”

 

Torpedo nods and his face softens a little. “After Guy died. You weren’t… you probably don’t remember that.”

 

Connor doesn’t really want to think about it, so he just nods. “Fine,” he says, glaring at Lucas. “Whatever. Let’s get some sleep.”

 

“We’re not done talking about this,” Lucas warns Connor. “I need to know exactly what you said.”

 

Connor flips him off. “This is the last time I ever do you a favor. Jesus fucking Christ.”

 

“You think that was a  _ favor _ ?”

 

“Bed,” says Torpedo insistently, before anyone can throw another punch. 

 

Connor sighs. “Fine.”

 

The next morning, Connor wakes up to a whole bunch of noise. He sits up to see Lucas, aggressively cleaning. 

 

“This place is a mess,” Lucas grumbles. 

 

Connor looks at his phone and groans. “It’s seven in the fucking morning.”

 

“What’s that got to do with the fact that there are pizza boxes everywhere?”

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Lucas, you live in a house with a fucking maid.”

 

“That doesn’t mean I can’t clean.”

 

“Shut upppp,” Torpedo mumbles. “I hate you all.”

 

“I need to know what you told my dad,” Lucas says firmly, ignoring Torpedo.

 

“Go home and deal with it yourself,” Torpedo grumbles, throwing a pillow at Lucas in irritation. “Connor, don’t engage. Just go back to sleep.”

 

“Connor, what did you say to them?”

 

“I told them you like to kick puppies in your free time,” Connor says petulantly. “You just pick them up and drop kick them as far as you can. That’s why you’re so pissed off you can’t play soccer anymore. It’s getting in the way of your puppy kicking fetish. Soon you won’t be able to get them any further than the front door and that’s just unacceptable.”

 

Torpedo groans and hits Connor with another pillow. “Oh my fucking god, Connor, let me fucking  _ sleep _ .”

 

“I need to know how much you’ve burned down my life,” Lucas snaps. “What. Did. You. Say?”

 

Connor sits up and stares at Lucas. “I said it was bullshit you weren’t allowed to play soccer,” he says with a frown. “It’s bullshit that you’ve worked hard and achieved something and they’re just shitting on that. I told them they should realize how lucky they are that you work hard and have goals and aren’t dead on a bench somewhere.”

 

Torpedo sits up at that. Lucas just stares. 

 

It’s quiet for a really long time. 

 

“You said that?” Lucas asks, his voice quiet. 

 

“Yes, and I fucking meant it, so go away and let me sleep.”

 

Lucas kind of stands there for a while, then opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then puts on his jacket and just… leaves. 

 

Connor groans and curls up under the blanket. 

 

“Did you really say that?” Torpedo asks, sounding… a little impressed. 

 

“Seven in the fucking morning,” Connor reminds his clone. “Go back to sleep.”

 

It’s close to midday when Connor wakes up again, to the sound of Torpedo coming down the stairs and the smell of bacon. Torpedo’s got two plates and he fixes Connor with a brilliant smile. “Breakfast!” he announces, handing Connor a plate that contains three waffles and a ridiculous amount of bacon. 

 

They sit on the couch and Torpedo eagerly starts arranging his waffles and bacon into a sandwich like concoction. Connor looks on in amusement, then starts in on his own meal. It’s all… kind of plasticy. 

 

“Did you microwave this?” Connor asks, amused. 

 

Torpedo nods cheerfully and keeps eating. Connor shrugs and does the same. 

 

“So Lucas’s parents really suck, huh?” Torpedo says finally, after licking bacon grease off his fingers. 

 

Connor snorts. “Yeah. Yeah, they do.” He looks at Torpedo sheepishly. “Do you think I got him kicked out? I really fucking hope not.”

 

“I hope not, too,” Torpedo says, frowning a little. “Also, like, I feel like if they did kick him out, it’d be… fuck, I don’t know, bad for their image or whatever. As long as you didn’t, like, set the place on fire, it’s probably fine.”

 

“I absolutely did not set the place on fire.”

 

Torpedo laughs. “Well, you’re probably fine.” His face grows somber for a moment. “What you said about… about Ben…”

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says immediately. “It was a dick move to bring up Ben and I’m sorry.”

 

Torpedo shakes his head. “No, no, it’s… we should talk about it, you know? If we don’t… we’re the only ones who know he’s dead. We should… we should talk about him sometimes. So he’s not just… I don’t know, I think it just sucks to pretend someone was never even here, you know?” 

 

Connor thinks that Torpedo knows this from experience. He’s never pressed but he knows Torpedo has lost someone, and… 

 

That’s heartbreaking. 

 

Connor wonders what his family is saying about him now. It’s been months since he died. The recordings stopped months ago and he hasn’t exactly been paying much attention to what’s been going on. Torpedo looks at him for a long moment, then smiles a little. 

 

“I, uh, I never told you,” Torpedo says awkwardly, “but… someone from your high school tried to start up this whole… memorial movement in your name. Like a suicide prevention thing, a social media campaign. It had your face all over it and I knew it’d be a problem if it went anywhere, seeing how many of us there are with this face, so I stopped it.”

 

Connor just stares. “Who set it up?”

 

He hopes it wasn’t Evan Hansen. It doesn’t seem like his style, but… he just hopes it’s not. 

 

“Alana Beck, her name was,” Torpedo says, clearly thinking back. “It was a few months after you, uh, died and things were kind of all over the place so I just… I just dealt with it. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it.” He shoots Connor a pointed look. “You were kind of a mess for a while there.”

 

“You’re not wrong,” Connor admits. “I, uh, I didn’t really know Alana. We did an English project together a few years ago and I was… kind of an asshole. I was just super high through the whole thing. But she was… patient, I guess? And she was never…” Connor lets out a sigh and continues. “She was never awful to me. So many people were just… awful and she was never one of them. She was intense, and a little… a little tactless, maybe? But she wasn’t awful.” He kind of laughs at the memory of Alana. “We weren’t… we weren’t friends but we weren’t… not friends.”

 

“She really wanted to set up this organization,” Torpedo says, looking a little sad. “It would have been called The Connor Project. She tried basically every social media platform available and I just… deleted every page as soon as she did it. I wrote a code that would just get rid of it. She kept trying, though. Every day for a full week.”

 

“Alana’s tenacious,” Connor says, smiling a little. “She must have been so mad.”

 

They play video games for a few hours, then Connor drives back to the city. Later that night, just as he’s getting ready for bed, he gets a call from Lucas. 

 

“Hey,” Lucas says, his voice quiet. “Just wanted to let you know what happened.”

 

“Okay,” says Connor, trying to sound like he doesn’t care but intensely curious. “What happened?”

 

“My dad said that he didn’t want me doing the Under 21 team because it would get in the way of college,” Lucas says carefully. “But that banning all soccer is… a little extreme. So I’m allowed to play social games and I’m allowed to coach the kids' team again.”

 

“Oh,” says Connor. He’s not really sure what to say. “That’s… that’s cool.”

 

“Anyway, I just thought you might want to know.”

 

Connor smirks. “Are you calling to say thank you?”

 

“No,” Lucas says defensively. “I’m still mad at you. Your gay ass kissed my girlfriend.”

 

“Again, she kissed me,” Connor corrects him. 

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Hey Lucas?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Connor smirks. “You’re welcome.”

 

“Fuck off.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	81. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus Sadler meets Heidi Hansen.

When Connor wakes up, it takes him a moment to realize where he is, or who the girl in front of him with her hand near his face is. He grabs her wrist tightly and there’s a yelp, and he leans closer to get a better view of her face, and she turns pale. He lets go of her quickly the minute he realizes who is it.

 

It’s Hannah. Zoe’s girlfriend.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Hannah blurts out. “I just… I couldn’t sleep, and Reed and I have been talking about minimizing the risk of infection while your eye heals, so I just wanted to see check on the wound.”

 

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” Connor mumbles. He feels like he’s been put through a meat grinder. Everything is hazy and slow and he doesn’t have any energy. He’s probably been running on adrenaline for the past few days, getting out of DYAD and confronting Evan…

 

Oh god.

 

Confronting Evan.

 

He told Evan that he never wanted to see him again.

 

He swallows hard and looks away, not even slightly okay with the idea of melting down while alone with this woman he barely knows, even if she does have kind eyes and a soft, sympathetic smile and obviously fucking adores his sister.

 

His mind goes back to a conversation with Evan, soon after Zoe and Hannah started dating.

 

“So tell me more about this Hannah chick,” Connor had said, folding himself into a corner on the edge of Evan’s sofa. He’d come down from New York for the weekend, armed with donuts, and Reed had been busy so it had just been Evan and Connor. This was about a month before they started dating.

 

“Well, I haven’t met her,” Evan had said, taking a seat on the other side of the sofa and grabbing a donut on the way. “But Zoe’s… well, she’s pretty smitten.”

 

“I always thought she might like girls,” Connor had said conversationally. “I don’t really remember it super well, but I did this project with Alana Beck back in the day and Zoe always kind of… hung around whenever Alana came over and was always wearing, like, something a bit nicer than her general hang around the house clothes.”

 

Evan had blushed at the mention of Alana but Connor hadn’t pushed it at the time. Of course, much later he’d found out that Alana had slept with both Evan and Zoe on separate occasions, which Connor still thinks is one of the funniest things he’s ever heard.

 

“She definitely likes Hannah,” Evan said. “Hannah’s studying bioengineering. She’s a transfer student, she plays the drums, Zoe describes her as ‘cute and butch and brilliant and adorable and amazing’ and talks about pinning her against the wall _a lot_ , which is definitely too much information.”

 

Connor groaned loudly and hit Evan with a couch cushion. “Nope nope nope,” he said firmly. “You’re not talking about my sister’s sex life, that is not what I asked.”

 

Evan turned bright red and let out this adorable squeak. “I don’t want to talk about your sister’s sex life, either, but you asked me a question!”

 

He’d hit Evan with a cushion again and Evan had hit him back and then they’d ended up kind of weirdly wrestling on the couch and Connor had had to muster every inch of self-control not to kiss him, right then and there, and…

 

Connor can’t think about that right now.

 

If he thinks about that right now, he’ll fall apart, and he can’t let himself fall apart. Not in front of his sister’s girlfriend who he barely knows and thought he was dead until just a few days ago.

 

“Do you mind if I just check on your eye?” Hannah says gently. Connor nods, not trusting himself to speak, and Hannah gently takes off the bandage and looks at it. She doesn’t touch it, just turns on the light and looks at it carefully, then pulls out a first aid kit and sets about bandaging it again.

 

“How’s it looking, doc?” Connor jokes quietly.

 

Hannah bites her lip. “Honestly? It’s still looking pretty gruesome, but there’s no sign of infection, and I can definitely see that it’s healing. I think… I think I can actually see the beginning of the new eyeball growing in.” She kind of smiles. “As a scientist, this is probably the coolest thing I’ve seen all week, but as a human being, I’m still horrified you had to go through this. I’m so sorry, Connor.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” he says honestly.

 

Hannah bites her lip again. “I know, but… I did work for DYAD. I didn’t… I really didn’t know that they were doing this kind of thing.”

 

“Did work for DYAD?” Connor says with a frown. “Did you… did you quit?”

 

“Actually I got fired,” she says with a rueful smile. “Well, made redundant. Officially. They’re… they’re tightening their security. It’s going to get harder to get in and out. I guess they’re… expecting someone to come and try to get Gus out.”

 

“Did Reed get fired too?” Connor asks, feeling panic well up inside him. No Hannah and no Reed at DYAD means they’ve got no one on the inside anymore. Not after Evan…

 

“Yeah,” Hannah says quietly. “Seamus said he’s working on something. He’s, uh, he’s left for a bit. Said he’d be in touch, he just has to do something.”

 

That doesn’t sound good. That doesn’t sound good at all. “It’s something to save Gus, isn’t it?” Connor asks.

 

Hannah nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I assume so.”

 

Connor sighs and closes his good eye. “Fuck. I need to grow this eye back so I can help.”

 

Hannah makes a sound of alarm. “You’re not going anywhere for a while,” she says firmly. “You’re staying in this bed and healing. You’re growing back an eye. I don’t even know what the protocol for that is.”

 

“He’s my brother,” Connor says weakly. “He’s my twin. I have to… I promised I’d protect him, have his back, be there for him. I…” He’s tired and he’s sad and he shouldn’t be admitting what he’s about to admit but he can’t quite stop himself from saying it. “I fucked things up with Zoe. I fucked them up so bad. Sure, she’s here now while I recover but the minute I’m well again, she’s going to… she’ll scream at me and yell at me and be angry and never forgive me for what I put her through, and she’ll have every right to do that. I’m never going to get my sister back. Not really. This is just… this is just temporary. When I found out about Gus, I swore I’d be a better brother to him than I was to Zoe, and I couldn’t… I’m the reason he’s in there.”

 

Hannah’s quiet for a long time, then she puts her hand on Connor’s arm gently. “I don’t think it’s true, what you said about Zoe,” Hannah says, very softly. “She… she’s stubborn and she’s angry and she’s… she’s kind of mean when she’s angry, but she has the _biggest_ heart. The biggest. And she loves you. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t be so angry about it all if she didn’t. She’s going to need time but I think… I think if you’re patient, and you give her the time she needs, it’s going to be okay. Eventually. Not overnight, but eventually.”

 

“If I were her, I’d never forgive me,” Connor says, throat rough.

 

Hannah’s eyes are very, very sad. “I don’t think it’s fair to say never,” she says, her voice even gentler than before.

 

Connor remembers his own words.

 

He remembers them well.

 

_I never want to see you again._

 

_I never want to see you again._

 

All of a sudden he’s crying, and Hannah looks a little bit alarmed, but she takes his hand and squeezes it gently, and his eye hurts and he’s probably ruining the bandages Hannah just put on his eye because he’s _such an asshole,_ and Hannah just looks so, so, so sad.

 

He closes his eyes, and then there’s someone else on the other side of the bed, and there are soft words and a hand stroking his hair and the sound of gentle barking and a weight at the end of the bed. When he opens his eyes, there’s Zoe on his other side, her face young and full of sleep and worry, and Pampushka at the end of the bed, nuzzling at his legs.

 

“Your hair’s probably getting in the way, huh?” Zoe says gently. “Did you want me to braid it for you?”

 

Connor can’t really trust himself to reply, but he nods firmly. Zoe’s face breaks into a smile and he sits up so she can reach his hair. Having her hands gently rake through his hair is nice. It’s soothing. It makes him feel like things might be okay for a little while. Hannah lets go of his hand and gets up, then comes back with a warm washcloth, which she hands to him without a word. He wipes the salt from off his face and as Zoe braids his hair, Hannah redresses his wound.

 

* * *

 

Evan’s going through the motions at DYAD. He knows it, Kylie knows it, probably every other person who’s laid eyes on him in the last day knows it. He honestly doesn’t care. As long as he can keep it together long enough to burn this place down, he doesn’t care what happens.

 

After lunch on Tuesday, Dominic Morgan walks into their lab with his expensive suit and shark-like grin. “Mr. Hansen,” he says, his tone deceptively friendly. “Dr. McAllistair.”

 

“Mr. Morgan,” Kylie replies, her tone pleasant and fake. “What can we do for you?”

 

“Progress report on 887R95-B,” says Dominic, and Evan’s whole body tenses, because he knows that’s Gus’s ID code. “I understand you extracted bone marrow in the early hours of this morning?”

 

“Yes,” Kylie says, still with that pleasant and fake tone. “We’ve been keeping him sedated, as his surroundings seem to be causing him undue stress, which isn’t beneficial to long-term testing.” She, very briefly, glances at Evan, then continues. “We’ve also moved him to a different examination room. The one he was in originally… well, it was having detrimental effects on the subject’s health, and of course, we’d want to keep him in optimum condition for testing.”

 

Evan’s trying to piece together what Kylie’s saying. Is she… is she saying they’ve taken him out of that bleach soaked room? He hopes so. He doesn’t dare hope, but he hopes so.

 

“With all due respect,” says Dominic, frowning slightly, “887R95-B has murdered seventeen of my brothers. His health and wellbeing is not a priority here.”

 

“I agree,” says Kylie tersely, “but as a scientist, surely you understand that uncorrupted data is the most important outcome. We need to keep him at a baseline we can manage.”

 

“I admire your dedication to your work,” says Dominic, his tone unconvincingly chipper. “And this evening’s procedure is scheduled to proceed as planned?”

 

“What procedure?” Evan blurts out.

 

Dominic smiles. “We’ll be removing 887R95-B’s kidneys to observe regeneration of vital organs.”

 

“I was informed we’d be removing one kidney,” Kylie says sharply. “For safety reasons.”

 

“I think both would be a more… informative study,” says Dominic, still smiling.

 

“We can’t be certain the subject would survive that,” Kylie warns.

 

Dominic smiles even wider. “Again, informative.”

 

Kylie looks annoyed. “Mr. Morgan, there are far more things we could learn from 887R95-B if we’re careful and thorough. There’s no need for reckless experimentation at this point in the proceedings.”

 

Kylie and Dominic stare each other down for a moment and Evan wishes he were anywhere but here.

 

“I will, of course, bow to your expertise,” says Dominic. His accent is starting to grate on Evan’s nerves. “Do consider it for future experiments, however. Any data we can retrieve from 887R95-B is useful.”

 

“Gus,” Evan says without thinking.

 

Dominic looks at him, eyes wide. “Pardon?”

 

“His name is Gus.”

 

Dominic smiles. “I really don’t think that matters.”

 

Kylie clears her throat. “Speaking of the subject, I need to get a baseline reading. Mr. Morgan, always a pleasure.”

 

Then Kylie leaves and Evan is left alone with Dominic. Dominic’s smile turns sharp and predatory. “You must feel that you’ve achieved some sort of victory, Mr. Hansen,” he says, his voice cold. “I assure you, you have not.”

 

“Connor’s not having his eyeball ripped out and you’re not allowed near Gus,” says Evan with more confidence than he feels. “So yeah, I’m taking that as a win.”

 

Dominic’s eyes are like ice, and Evan shivers a little as they focus on him.

 

It’s hard to look at this face and see such coldness.

 

Such unadulterated hate.

 

“Losing 887R95-A is a setback,” says Dominic, his voice maddeningly even. “But it’s one I can bounce back from. And subject 887R95-B… well, he’s a consolation prize, but he’s not a complete disappointment.” Dominic quirks an eyebrow. “You’re not in love with this one as well, are you? It’s getting to be a fetish for you.”

 

Evan has no idea why he says what he does next, but he stares Dominic straight in the eye. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you paid me.”

 

Dominic looks angry for a moment, then laughs. “You’ve got spirit. At least there’s that.” He leans in closer to Evan, towering over him. “887R95-B’s days are numbered, and when he’s dead, I’ll be on the hunt for 887R95-A and go right back to removing his limbs. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

 

“There’s no point in threatening me,” Evan says tiredly. “There’s nothing you can do to me anymore. Connor’s escaped and you’re never going to find him.”

 

Dominic’s eyes narrow. “It doesn’t mean I can’t still hurt him. Or you. I had his mother killed.” Dominic has a cruel smile on his face. “And don’t forget, I know where _your_ mother lives.”

 

* * *

 

As Seamus turns the corner into a small suburban street, he notices two things.

 

One, there’s a black van parked outside of the address he’s tracked down for Heidi Hansen.

 

Two, his phone is blowing up.

 

He parks around the corner and checks his phone to see message after message from Evan. Telling him Dominic has made outright threats. Urging him to hurry.

 

Seamus holsters his gun and heads to the front door of the tiny apartment, only to find it ajar. There’s the sound of muffled screaming, and he bursts in, heading for the noise.

 

There are three men, dressed entirely in black. One’s got a bag over a woman’s head, and she’s struggling in his arms, brandishing what looks like a kitchen knife. One of the other men makes a move for Seamus and he unflinchingly shoots the man in the head. The other man pulls out his own weapon and takes a shot at Seamus, which he dodges successfully, and when he returns fire, the other man goes down.

 

The man holding the woman who must be Heidi Hansen looks at Seamus and puts his hands around her neck. “I’ve been told to bring her in alive if I can,” says the man, “but I’ll kill her if I have to.”

 

Then the man screams as Heidi Hansen stabs him at the top of his leg with her knife. He lets go of her, and she dives to the floor just as Seamus lands another headshot.

 

He goes running over to Heidi and takes the bag off her head, finally getting a good look at her face. She’s blonde and undeniably beautiful and looks very, very pissed off. Seamus is about to say something when she kicks him in the groin.

 

Hard.

 

He hits the floor with a yelp.

 

“Who sent you?” she demands. “What’s going on? What the fuck is going on?”

 

He’s had the wind knocked out of him, but he manages to choke out the code phrase. “Mini marshmallows.”

 

She stops in her tracks. “What?”

 

Seamus takes a couple of deep breaths, then tries to sit up. “Evan… he knew you were in danger, so he sent me to… get you out.”

 

“Is he okay?” Heidi asks sharply. “Where is he? What’s going on?”

 

“It’s complicated,” Seamus says, a little wary.

 

Heidi grits her teeth. “Uncomplicate it.”

 

“He’s gotten mixed up in something dangerous at work,” Seamus says, which is true but nowhere near the whole story. “I need you to… there’ll be people after you again, they won’t stop coming until they find you. You need to come with me.”

 

She stares at him for a moment. “Will you take me to my son?”

 

Seamus stares back. “He’s being watched as well. I’ll… I’ll get you in contact, I promise. But I need you to come with me.”

 

Heidi bites her lip, then nods. “Okay. Give me ten minutes.”

 

Seamus drags himself to the sofa, and tries to catch his breath. He’s in a lot of pain, but at least he’s managed to stop Heidi from getting kidnapped.

 

He looks around at the dead bodies all over this poor woman’s living room.

 

At least none of them are hers.

 

It’s not even five minutes when Heidi comes back, duffel bag in hand. She takes one look at him. “Give me your keys, I’ll drive.”

 

Seamus laughs. “Not happening, sweetheart.”

 

“Alright then. Stand up.” Seamus manages to get to his feet, but can barely walk from the pain. Heidi winces a little, then goes to her freezer and grabs out a bag of frozen peas. “Put this on your groin,” she says sharply. “And give me your keys.”

 

Seamus does as he’s told, then lets her guide him out of the house and around the corner to his car. He gets in the passenger seat, puts the bag of frozen peas on his crotch and watches as Heidi effortlessly starts the car and starts driving.

 

“We’re going to Massachusetts,” Seamus says by way of explanation.

 

Heidi laughs humorlessly. “I should damn well hope so. That’s where my son is.”

 

As she makes her way through town, all Seamus can think to himself is that Heidi Hansen is one hell of a woman.

 

He might be a little bit in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	82. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torpedo's in LA.

The flight to Los Angeles goes by in a haze, mostly because Torpedo is high off his ass on fentanyl the whole time. His mom doesn’t exactly love it, but she’s also not a huge fan of him being constantly in pain either, so she considers it the lesser of two evils.

 

Torpedo’s so tired of being in pain.

 

He really hopes this is going to work.

 

They arrive at their motel in LA and get settled in. It’s not exactly late but Torpedo’s exhausted, and his mom pops out to grab some food to bring back while he rests.

 

He doesn’t remember blacking out but he comes to on the floor and the first thing he sees is his mother’s face, devastated and pale. She helps him get changed and clean up, and it’s super embarrassing to have his mom have to help him post-seizure, but he’s too exhausted to care and ends up falling asleep before getting the chance to eat.

 

The next day, they meet Parker and Ivy at the abandoned lab Ivy’s been working out of. When they arrive, Parker’s the first one to greet them and Torpedo’s heart nearly stops.

 

Parker’s got more color than Torpedo’s ever seen on him.

 

He still looks tired, but that pale, almost translucent quality his skin has had in the last few months is gone.

 

Holy shit.

 

It worked.

 

Parker pulls him into a tight hug. “It’s good to meet you in person,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

 

“You look good,” Torpedo says, still shocked.

 

Parker smiles brilliantly. “I feel good. Not back to a hundred percent, but I feel… so much better than I have.” He squeezes Torpedo’s shoulder. “Soon you will too. I promise.”

 

It’s almost anticlimactic. Ivy injects something into his arm and it takes all of about a minute. Then she looks at him and smiles. “You should start feeling better soon.”

 

Torpedo blinks. “That’s it?”

 

“We’re still monitoring the effects,” she says, “and we can’t be a hundred percent sure this is a permanent solution. Worst case scenario, it’s a temporary fix that buys you some time. Best case scenario…”

 

“It’s a proper cure,” Torpedo finishes, feeling hope welling up in him. “This is… this is amazing. After… after everything, all the work and the people we’ve lost and…”

 

He has to take a moment. His mom puts his arm around him and he cries on her shoulder for a long time. Parker’s tearing up, too, and so is Ivy.

 

They’ve waited a long time for this.

 

For so long, it’s felt like this day would never come.

 

“I have to call the others,” Torpedo says finally, wiping his face.

 

His mom smiles at him weakly, and then her phone rings. She answers it quickly then hands it to Torpedo. “It’s Charles,” she says by way of explanation. “He wants to talk to you.”

 

“Beanpole!” Torpedo says, unable to contain his excitement. “What’s going on?”

 

“You sound good,” Beanpole says, a smile in his voice. “Evan said you’d found the cure.”

 

Torpedo’s smile drops a little. He’s not sure what to think about Evan. They’d all avoided talking about him after he left the hotel because Connor had been so angry and so devastated. It had hurt.

 

Torpedo doesn’t hate Evan.

 

He doesn’t particularly like Evan right now, but he doesn’t hate him.

 

He can’t even think about Gus.

 

“Yes,” Torpedo says simply. “Yes, we did. I’ve… we can’t be sure it’s 100%, but I’ve taken it and Parker’s taken it and Parker feels a whole lot better. So it’s something. It’ll buy us time at least.”

 

“Good,” Beanpole says, sounding relieved. “If you guys can find a cure without DYAD resources, then… that means it’s possible. That means we can burn the place down. Finally.”

 

Torpedo blinks. “Wait, what?”

 

“DYAD needs to be stopped,” Beanpole says passionately. “Now that there’s a cure, or at the very least a temporary treatment, it’s the last piece in the puzzle. We’ve been working on it for years, just waiting for a breakthrough. We’re going to need all the help we can get because it’s… it’s not going to be easy, but we’re burning the place to the ground.”

 

“Like, physically?” Torpedo asks. “Or is this more of a metaphorical burning?”

 

“Bit of both,” Beanpole says, a hint of a smile in his voice. “There are key buildings we’re taking away globally - South Africa, Switzerland, the UK, Japan, Australia. And in the US, Vermont and Boston are the main ones to be targeted.”

 

“You’re blowing up the Boston office?” Torpedo says. He has to sit down. “Gus is in there.”

 

“I know,” says Beanpole reassuringly. “There’s a plan to get him out in the middle of the chaos. It’s not perfect, but it’s worth the risk.”

 

“This is…” Torpedo stares at his mom for a moment, who doesn’t look surprised at all. He turns the phone on speaker for a moment and looks at Jenny. “You knew about this. About destroying DYAD.”

 

Jenny nods. “It’s not just about blowing up the buildings,” she says. “And it’s not about killing people, either. They’re going to evacuate everyone in the buildings. Strike at night when the place is nearly empty. It’s all about removing resources. Making a statement.” She smiles a little grimly. “Exposing their horrors to the world.”

 

“Jenny’s one of many journalists around the world who’ll be publishing a story on DYAD’s secrets,” Beanpole says, his voice tinny on the speakerphone. “Which reminds me - Jenny, I found him. And he’s willing to talk.”

 

Jenny’s eyes widen. “You did? How?”

 

“Not important. Can you get to New York tomorrow?”

 

Jenny looks at Torpedo, who has no idea what the fuck’s going on. He just shrugs. She bites her lip in resolve. “Yes,” she says firmly. “Yes, I can make that work.”

 

“Who did you find?” Parker asks. “Who’s willing to talk? What’s going on?”

 

Beanpole sounds both proud and amazed as he continues. “It took some time, but I tracked down someone vital to the Phanes experiment. He was there at the very beginning. He’s the whole reason we even exist.”

 

Ivy’s eyes are widening. “Are you saying…”

 

Torpedo can hear Beanpole’s grin in his voice as he continues. “This guy’s the original.”

 

* * *

 

Gus does not like the fog in his head.

 

But it is always there. It makes it hard to think, to plan.

 

He is here to save Connor from this pain, yes, but there is a voice inside that says he must get out if it he is to survive.

 

From very small, he has been taught how to survive. He has the skills to do this. But not when he has so much fog in his head.

 

When he is awake, he tries to get the needle out of his arm, but he does not have enough movement, and cannot do this.

 

He wakes up in a different room and he cannot smell bleach, which is a small blessing, but it is still small and too bright and he does not like it.

 

He is in pain.

 

His back is full of pain.

 

And now, his side. He aches and it is dull and painful, not like the knife or the bleach, but something different.

 

He has not been spoken to in some time. It reminds him of being left alone when he is small, and he does not like it. People come in, but they do not speak to him. They simply give him more drugs to make him sleep.

 

When he is small, he is afraid to sleep sometimes, because he knows that sleep is when he can be hurt. When he is asleep, he cannot defend himself. He does not like the way it feels to have the fog in his brain.

 

He misses Pampushka.

 

He would like to see his dog.

 

He hopes she is looking after Connor for him. He would like them to be together. That would be nice.

 

It would be better if they were all together. Gus, Connor and Pampushka, with Seamus and the others. And many donuts.

 

When Gus first went to live with Seamus, he was afraid to ask for anything. He did not feel he deserved it. But Seamus told him that the things he wanted, the things he had asked for were very simple.

 

A warm place to live. A soft bed to sleep on. A dog. Donuts. And people who care for him.

 

Gus knows that to have this is not asking for much, but that it means a great deal, and to have had it but no longer have it is painful and hard.

 

He misses his dog and his twin and his dad.

 

Dr. McAllistair walks into the room. Gus fights through the fog to give her his full attention. She is dangerous, he thinks.

 

She is afraid of him. He knows this.

 

“Hello doctor,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “What do you take from me today?”

 

He knows what they are doing when he is deep in the fog and no longer present in his body.

 

They are taking pieces of him to study.

 

This is why he has the ache.

 

“I’m here to check your vitals,” she says, sounding a little surprised. There is a machine hooked up to his arm that beeps always, and Gus does not understand it so ignores it. But the doctor is paying close attention. “Everything looks good.”

 

“What do you take next?” he asks, as firm as he can. “You want to see regeneration, yes?”

 

“We’ve removed one of your kidneys,” she says, her voice matter-of-fact. “We believe it will grow back. There are… other things we may look at removing once you have fully recovered.”

 

Gus tilts his head and looks at her. “I spend much time sleeping,” he says, frowning. “Much time sleeping, and having dull pain, but the things you take from me are inside. The blood is elsewhere. Which makes me think.” He stares at her unflinchingly. “When I arrive, there is blood in the room. Much blood. It is from Connor.” He grits his teeth. “This must mean the things you take from him are not inside. You take pieces of him that can be seen. This is cruel. Why is it not the same for me?”

 

The doctor looks deeply unnerved, to Gus’s satisfaction. It takes her a while to respond. “Someone else was in charge of studying Connor,” she says finally. “Different decisions were made.”

 

Something clicks in Gus’s foggy brain. “You are not as cruel. This is why it is not the same for me. At first I do not understand, because… you tell me I am murderer. You talk of my seventeen brothers, all dead at my hand. You do not care if I survive. But you want the information, yes? More than you want me to suffer for my sins.”

 

“You’re a biological goldmine,” the doctor says, her jaw tense. “So is your twin.”

 

“Yes,” Gus says, leaning in as much as he can. He would like her to feel fear. It is not kind, but he is not feeling kind. “This must mean that the person who studied Connor did not want information. He wanted _pain_. He wanted to make my twin feel pain. I would like to meet this person.”

 

“And why exactly is that?” asks the doctor frowning.

 

“I would like to see the face of cruelty,” Gus says matter-of-factly. “The face of the one who wanted so much pain for my twin. So that when I escape, I know who to kill first.”

 

The doctor draws in a sharp breath, then looks at him, her face full of disgust. “You already know the face of cruelty,” she snaps. “Cruelty has your face.”

 

With that, she leaves the room, leaving Gus to ponder her words.

 

He understands now.

 

It is another clone.

 

Another clone who hurt Connor.

 

This one is truly an abomination.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they reach Boston, Seamus starts giving Heidi directions to the hotel. It takes a moment for him to realize she’s completely ignoring them and heading toward what must be Evan’s apartment.

 

“DYAD will be watching,” he says sharply. “We can’t go straight to Evan. We need to go somewhere safe.”

 

“I need to see my son,” says Heidi, not changing direction at all.

 

“Going to his apartment is a bad idea” Seamus warns.

 

“You still haven’t explained what’s going on and even if you do know the code phrase, I don’t know you so until I see my son, I don’t care what you have to say,” Heidi snaps.

 

“Do you want to put him in more danger?” Seamus shoots right back. “He knows where the meeting place is. I’ll make sure you see him, just trust me.”

 

Heidi stares at him for a moment, then turns in the direction he’d pointed out earlier. Seamus sighs in relief, and it’s not too long before they’re at the hotel. She looks a little skeptical, but doesn’t say anything, just picks up her bag and follows Seamus inside.

 

Pampushka is the first one to greet them. She comes up to Heidi and sniffs her, then wags her tail. Heidi’s face softens a little. “Hello,” she says, petting the dog. “What’s your name?”

 

“This is Pampushka,” Seamus says. “She belongs to my son.”

 

Heidi blinks. “You have a son?”

 

Seamus can’t help but smile. “You have no idea.”

 

“What the hell?”

 

“Zoe?”

 

Zoe practically runs down the stairs and heads straight for Heidi. Seamus dimly remembers that Zoe and Evan are friends and have been for a while. Of course Heidi would know Zoe Murphy. “Heidi, what are you doing here?” Zoe says, and Seamus is dismayed to see that she’s almost sobbing in relief.

 

Heidi pulls Zoe into a hug immediately. “I’m still not entirely sure,” she says, her voice soothing. “But never mind that - sweetheart, I heard about your mom. I am so, so, so sorry. How are you holding up?”

 

Zoe breaks into fresh sobs and Seamus feels his heart wrench painfully. He lets Zoe sob for a while, then gently guides both Heidi and Zoe to a sofa. “I think I owe you an explanation, Heidi,” he says quietly. “Evan’s been… Evan works for an organization that works on something a little… out of the ordinary. And it’s dangerous. And they threatened you to hurt him. He asked me to extract you, to keep you safe. There’s… there’s a lot more to be done.”

 

Zoe just stares at Seamus for a moment. “Seriously?” she says, looking more than a little pissed off and weirdly, heartbreakingly, a lot like Connor. “A little out of the ordinary? That’s what you’re going with?”

 

Heidi looks at Zoe. “What’s going on?” she asks, almost ignoring Seamus.

 

“First of all, Connor’s alive,” says Zoe with a shaky laugh. “Second of all… he’s part of a human cloning experiment. That’s what DYAD do. Weird fucking science. I’ve met four other people with Connor’s face in the last 48 hours.”

 

Heidi laughs a little. “Zoe, honey, that… that’s impossible.”

 

“I’ll prove it,” Zoe says stubbornly. “Connor’s upstairs.”

 

She takes Heidi’s hand and leads her upstairs. Heidi looks confused and keeps sending Seamus the occasional glare, clearly not quite trusting him, which Seamus thinks is fair enough. Once they get into the room where Connor’s resting, Heidi takes in a sharp breath.

 

“Holy shit,” she says quietly.

 

Connor chooses that moment to stir. He looks… confused for a moment, then recognition dawns. “You’re Evan’s mom,” he says, his voice rough. “What’s… what’s going on?”

 

“I spoke with Evan,” Seamus says cautiously. “Someone in DYAD wasn’t happy you got out and they sent someone to try to take Heidi.” He looks at her and can’t help but smile. “I showed up just as they were trying to take her but I suspect she would have done just fine without me.”

 

“Three against one isn’t fair odds,” Heidi says distractedly.

 

“She kicked me right in the balls,” Seamus says, hoping to get a smile from Connor. It works. “Hell of a woman.”

 

Heidi turns slightly pink but focuses her attention back to Connor. “What happened?” she asks. “Your eye.”

 

“I was kind of tortured,” Connor says frankly. He looks tired and very, very sad. “DYAD… weren’t supposed to know I was alive.”

 

“And neither were your parents, I suppose,” Heidi says, a little sharply but not entirely unkindly.

 

“It’s all kind of gone to shit,” Connor says, his voice raw. “Evan… Evan’s in over his head. He… he made a deal and got me out but he…”

 

Connor looks away and Heidi looks at Seamus, who crosses his arms defensively. “Evan traded my other son for Connor,” he says, trying not to sound as angry as he feels when he thinks about it. “Thanks to some stellar advice from Larry Murphy. In retaliation, DYAD killed his wife and went after you.”

 

“Your other son?” Heidi asks.

 

“Connor’s twin.”

 

“Connor has a twin?” Heidi laughs disbelievingly. “You were trying to tell me they were clones just a moment ago.”

 

“Hey,” says a cheerful voice. “Just wanted to see how you were…”

 

Reed stands in the doorway, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

 

Heidi looks from Connor to Reed and back again, then sinks to a seat at the edge of Connor’s bed. “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.”

 

“Welcome to the trip,” Connor says, a little sarcastically.

 

Heidi fixes Seamus with a fierce look. “Okay, someone needs to take this whole ridiculous story from the top and explain everything - DYAD, why I’m sitting on the edge of the bed of a kid whose funeral I attended three years ago and how the fuck my son is involved in all of this.”

 

“It’s a long story,” says Seamus wearily, sitting down on the other side of Connor’s bed.

 

Connor smirks. “I think she’s got time, Dad,” he says wearily, laying his head back down on the pillow.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	83. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beanpole in NYC.

It’s been a while since Charles has been in New York City. Maybe two years, he’s not entirely sure. Last time he was here was before he started working for DYAD, while he was still doing his own research into his history and human cloning.

 

He’d thought about contacting Ben Childs the last time he was in New York City but just hadn’t quite gotten around to it. In retrospect, that was probably wise.

 

Given that Ben Childs had died when he was still 17.

 

Hindsight is 20/20, and it really does make a lot of sense that Ben stopped being Ben all those years ago. While Charles hadn’t been the primary point of contact for the European clones, he’d known enough that Ben was the most knowledgeable of the American group. Then when Eric broke into DYAD and got himself killed, Charles found himself in the thick of it more than ever.

 

Then Guillaume went to the States to meet up with Ben and use their American tech contact to decode the hard drive full of information from DYAD and was never seen again. The remaining clones in contact in Europe had lost hope when months passed with no word from Guy, and had all kind of scattered to the wind.

 

Charles doesn’t really blame them. The clone killer seemed to have disappeared and all signs pointed that he’d gone to the United States. Not being killed was at the top of everyone’s list of priorities, and once the immediate threat was over, the other clones wanted to go back to their lives.

 

It made sense. They were only eighteen. There was so much life they all still had to live, and just because they shared a face didn’t mean they were the same person.

 

Finally, sometime near summer, someone tracked Charles down through and gave him the decoded data. Explained that Guy was dead, that the clone killer had been subdued, and that the clone who decoded the information called himself Torpedo (which is ridiculous, of course, but having gone by Beanpole for a decent portion of his life, Charles thinks he cannot comment).

 

He’d tried to get the group back together to let them know of recent developments, but everyone seemed content to chalk it all up to experience and let the whole clone thing go.

 

But Charles had never been the type to let things go.

 

He’d also never been the type to shy away from a challenge.

 

He’d been accepted into Cambridge to study genetics because he wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything there was to know about human cloning and how it worked and all the possibilities it opened up. He knew he was smart, he knew he was hardworking and he knew that if he succeeded, the combination of his face and his talent just might get the DYAD Institute’s attention.

 

And he was right.

 

Charles had got through his undergraduate program in record time and had managed to start work on his Masters early when DYAD caught up with him and offered him a role. It would keep him at Cambridge but also give him the in he needed to find out more about his past.

 

And more about the clone illness.

 

DYAD had known about the clone illness since the clones were 12 years old, or at least the possibility of it. The mysterious brain illness killed off three clones in quick succession in Iceland, Denmark and the United States in 2012 and then there were no cases for a long time. Years. The clone illness was mentioned in the DYAD files but it didn’t seem to be a top priority. It didn’t even seem to be a major concern.

 

It was only when 2019 rolled around where Phanes subjects started dropping like flies, Charles had discovered. He’d come on board with DYAD shortly after and told about the illness, but then informed that his working on it would be a conflict of interest so was tasked with other projects.

 

Which, to be perfectly candid, Charles thought was utter bollocks.

 

That’s when he caught wind of the ESM and threw himself into their cause. He’d come into DYAD with what he thought was full awareness of what they were like but he’d only scratched the surface. The things he’d seen had turned his stomach and broken his heart and he’d dedicated himself wholeheartedly to the Ethical Science Movement’s mission.

 

And to finding a cure for the clones.

 

Which had proven to be something he… did not excel at.

 

He tried. He really did. He spent hours and days and weeks and months researching and writing and trying to make sense of things, but as intelligent as Charles knows he is, he just kept running into dead ends. So he widened his network, reached out and tried to get as many people as he could working on it.

 

As far as DYAD was concerned, he was quiet and unassuming and a little bit shy, and that made him almost undetectable, despite his familiar face. At DYAD, Charles Booth was known as a brilliant but socially awkward young man, desperate to prove himself and hard-working to a fault.

 

They had no idea he was in a leadership position in a group designed to take them down.

 

Charles meets Jenny Hetherington in Brooklyn and they take a leisurely walk to the building where the ESM have finally tracked down Robert Buskirk, a former board member of the DYAD Institute.

 

And the unexpected source of the clone DNA.

 

When they knock on the door, a woman answers. She’s, for lack of a better descriptor, a goth, or at least what Charles would call a goth. She’s covered in piercings and tattoos, with long dark black hair and thin dark eyebrows. There’s something a little vacant in her face but her eyes light up as soon as she sees Charles.

 

“Well, well, well,” she says, her lips curling with obvious delight. “Phanes at my doorstep. The cycle continues.”

 

“We’re here to see Mr. Buskirk,” Charles says politely. “He should be expecting us.”

 

The woman’s smile widens. “English. An English one. Such pretty manners.” She turns and gestures at them. “Follow me.”

 

They follow the woman into what looks like some sort of parlor, where a man in his sixties is sitting on an armchair reading a book. He glances up and Charles feels his heart pound faster in his chest.

 

He’s gotten used to seeing as his face - well, as used to it as he ever can, he supposes. But this is new. It’s his face, but older. Much older. It’s like he’s looking into the future and it’s…

 

It’s more than a little overwhelming.

 

The man stares at him, his expression almost as shocked as Charles’s must be. Then he breaks into a smile, and it’s so familiar it’s unsettling. “It’s like looking into the past,” says the man, his voice a little rough. “You must be Charles.”

 

“Mr. Buskirk,” Charles says politely. “This is Jenny Hetherington. She’s a reporter. Her son is one of us.”

 

“Please call me Bob,” says the man, his eyes kind.

 

Charles wants to laugh at that, for some strange reason. Here’s a man who’s the source of genetic material for hundreds of identical clones all around the world and his name is Bob.

 

“Alright,” Charles says, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

 

Bob chuckles. “Guess it’s pretty old-fashioned to be called Bob these days,” he says, his voice fond. “Please, both of you, have a seat.” He looks at the woman with the dark hair and tattoos, his eyes warm. “This is my granddaughter,” he says with a smile. “She likes to be called Magnet.”

 

“Magnet?” Jenny asks, a little puzzled.

 

Magnet smiles, then walks over to Jenny who has a pen in the front of her shirt pocket. She touches the pen and it attaches itself to her hand and she lifts it out of the pocket with ease. “Subdermal magnets,” she says, by way of explanation.

 

“Neat party trick,” says Jenny with a smile.

 

“Magnet and I have only come back into each other’s lives recently,” Bob says, his tone pleasant. “I was unfortunately estranged from my only daughter when she passed away when Magnet was 18, and we only found each other... maybe three years ago now?”

 

Magnet takes a seat on a couch and curls up like a cat. She fixes Charles with an intense stare. “As a teenager, I fell in a with a group called Neolution,” she says, her voice melodic and captivating. “The things they were doing, the things they’d seen… it was intoxicating. The stuff of science fiction, of myth, of legend. I heard rumors of Phanes when I first found them and made it my business to find out everything I could. Understand them inside out. I drank in everything I could about Phanes - long, cool sips of knowledge that turned to ash in my mouth when I realized the darkness that lay within.” She smiles, baring her teeth. “Of course, I didn’t know of my own connection.”

 

Charles is more than a little creeped out by this lady.

 

“What do you mean the darkness?” Jenny asks, clearly interested.

 

“There were… problems with the Phanes clones,” Bob says, his voice sad. “A predisposition for mental illness, for one. As the boys hit puberty, we received more and more reports of instability. We lost so many to suicide.” He looks like he’s tearing up and Charles feels his heart ache a little. “I wanted something to be done but DYAD insisted the experiment be left to run its course. I think… I think they wanted to see how many would take their own lives.”

 

“What made you decide to donate your genetic material to create the Phanes clones?” Jenny asks, her voice curious.

 

Bob’s eyes darken. “I didn’t,” he said simply. “All DYAD staff had samples taken when we began work. We were small, we were just starting our research, we started with our own. That’s when they discovered something unique in my genetic code. Something out of the ordinary. They thought… the thought my DNA would be the perfect starting point for human cloning but I… I couldn’t even imagine that being possible.”

 

“But they convinced you?” Charles asks, not sure if he wants to hear the answer.

 

Bob shakes his head. “No. When I refused, they drugged me in a board meeting and extracted my genetic material without my consent. I woke up strapped to a chair in an examination room. They’d taken bone marrow, blood samples, cheek swabs… and told me it was for the greater good.” He looks away, his face pale. He looks old. He looks very, very old. “There was nothing I could do. They… they threatened my family if I came forward. There was a very rich patron who wanted to see human cloning come to fruition and he funneled a lot of money into the Institute. They… at least they paid me well. I got a promotion and I kept my mouth shut.”

 

Jenny pulls out a recording device from her bag. “Mr. Buskirk,” she says quietly, “are you willing to go on the record with your story? Tell me everything from the top?”

 

Bob looks at Magnet, who nods, and then turns back to Jenny. “Yes, Ms. Hetherington,” he says calmly. “I believe I am.”

 

* * *

 

Evan isn’t sure how Seamus got the number of his ESM phone, but at this point, phone security is the last of his worries. He’s half tempted to throw all of them into traffic at this point.

 

Though it still hurts not to have the clone phone. Not to have any way to contact Connor.

 

Not that Connor wants to be contacted.

 

Evan hopes that he’s healing. Evan hasn’t slept since he last saw Connor. He can’t get the image of the gaping bloody hole where his eye should be out of his mind.

 

Hopefully they’re right and it is going to grow back.

 

The message from Seamus was short and to the point and had a time and place to meet him, so Evan’s once again at the park he slept in just before he saw Connor for the last time. He sits on the bench he recognizes and waits.

 

A car pulls up and he sees a familiar figure running toward him. His face falls and he heads to meet her.

 

“Mom,” he says, his voice urgent. “Seamus was supposed to get you somewhere safe. You can’t… you can’t be here.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says fiercely, pulling him into a hug. “Honey. My darling boy. I’m so scared for you.”

 

Evan can’t help it. He dissolves into tears on his mother’s shoulder and they both sink to the ground as soon as it becomes obvious his legs won’t support him anymore. He’s a sobbing, broken mess in his mother’s arms and she’s stroking his hair and making soothing noises and he doesn’t deserve this he doesn’t deserve this he needs to keep her safe he can’t bring her into this he needs her to be safe and far far away -

 

“You need to be somewhere safe,” he says, as firmly as he can. “It’s dangerous.”

 

“I know,” Heidi says, her voice equally as firm. “But you’re the one in danger. I can’t leave you. You’re my son. It’s my job to protect you.”

 

Evan shakes his head. “Not from this, Mom. Not from this. I… I made these mistakes and I have to fix them, I have to. I have to.”

 

Heidi takes a deep breath then hugs Evan tighter. “We’ll fix them together,” she promises. “I’ll help. I’ll be there. I’ll help.”

 

No.

 

No no no no no.

 

No no no no he can’t bring her into this he can’t lose anyone else he can’t he can’t he can’t -

 

“Sweetheart. Evan. I need you to breathe for me. Come on, honey, you can do this.”

 

He manages to get his breathing under control after a painfully long period of panic, and she pushes his hair out of his face. “You need help,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “Are you… are you still on your meds?” He shakes his head and her face falls. “Okay. We need to… that’s a thing we need to sort out. Meds and therapy and… we’ll get you feeling okay again, we will.”

 

“How can therapy help me?” Evan asks desperately. “There’s too much… too much I can’t say. If I told the truth, what’s really going on… I’d get locked up. Or killed. Or locked up and then killed.” He wipes his face. “And it doesn’t matter right now. It doesn’t matter until I’ve done what I need to.”

 

Heidi’s face is ashen and pale. “Sweetheart, you don’t-”

 

“I have to do this,” he interrupts, his voice passionate. “Mom. I have to get Gus out of DYAD. There’s a plan. It’s dangerous, but it’s something I have to do.” He tries to reassure her. “When I… when it’s over, when we get Gus out and we’re safe again, I’ll get meds and therapy. I promise. I’ll do all of that, anything you want me to do, I promise. But only once we’ve gotten Gus out and DYAD’s been taken down.” He swallows. Hard. “Mom, I love you, but I need you… I need you to be somewhere safe while I do this. If I… I need to be strong and I need to know you’re safe.”

 

“I need to know _you’re_ safe,” Heidi counters.

 

“We’ll need a getaway driver,” says Seamus suddenly. Evan stares at him.

 

“What? No!”

 

“I’ll do it,” Heidi says immediately.

 

“You’ll stay in the car?” Evan asks, his voice desperate.

 

Heidi nods. “Unless I have to get out of the car for my safety or yours, I will stay in the car.”

 

“I don’t like this,” Evan says, shaking his head. “Let me buy you a ticket to Florida.”

 

“Why Florida?”

 

“You can go to Disney World.”

 

Heidi laughs a little. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to Disney World. I’m staying with you.”

 

Evan knows he’s not going to win an argument with his mother on this one. She’s formidable even on the days when he’s in top arguing form. And now… he’s just so broken that he knows if he argues more, he’ll just wear himself down until he’s nothing and he is nothing but he needs to be at least part of a person right now. At least some of a person until they get Gus out of DYAD.

 

And if he keeps arguing with her, she might figure out the truth.

 

Evan has no intention of getting out of DYAD alive.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	84. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gus meets Dominic.

There is still fog in Gus’s head but the ache is becoming less. 

 

It is the regeneration. It must be. 

 

Gus thinks dimly that he has always known of the regeneration. He thinks also that Tatiana may have known this, too, and it is why she is so cruel. 

 

He also wonders if the regeneration is not good when he is starving, because he can remember times when it did not work as well. But at times like this, there is also bleach and other torments, so maybe this is what gets in the way. 

 

The regeneration is not for everyone, he knows this, but they say Connor is the same. Which means that whatever they have done to his body, it will be fine. He will heal. 

 

Gus is worried about Connor’s spirit. 

 

And also his own. 

 

The door opens, and Gus wills himself to focus. He must focus when there are others in the room. 

 

He sees the face of the true abomination. 

 

This man wears expensive clothes, has a beard and smiles like dagger. Gus sees the beard and thinks of Connor, who grew a beard last summer, much to the amusement of both Seamus and Gus. Gus does not want beard on himself because it is scratchy and he likes things to be soft, but he thinks Connor looked nice. 

 

This man does not look nice at all. 

 

He is the true abomination. 

 

“You must be August,” says the man. “My name is Dominic Morgan. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

Gus bares his teeth. “No pleasure here.”

 

Dominic laughs. “Such attitude from both of you. You’re definitely twins.” He smiles cruelly. “Although we both know there’s a big difference between you and Connor. He grew up with a normal life but you… you’re a murderer.”

 

“Many people remind me of this,” says Gus.

 

Dominic smiles again. “Good. It’s something you need to remember.”

 

Gus does not think he could ever forget. He has spent many nights, seeing the faces, remembering the tiny details that made them different. Not just abominations. Not demons. Not just poor copies. People. People with difference. People with hopes and dreams and light inside them, light Gus was too blind to see. 

 

He will not forget what he has done. 

 

He is still learning to forgive. 

 

“What do you want?” Gus asks. 

 

Dominic shrugs. “To see you. You’re not as… interesting as your twin, but you’ll have to do, I suppose.” He leans in a little. “Tell me August - what’s it like to kill a clone? To kill someone with your own face? Does it make you feel like the winner? Being the one who survives?”

 

Gus thinks that maybe this man is more dangerous than they all understood. 

 

“I take no pleasure in my memories,” Gus says simply. “I will not let the past drown me.”

 

“No need to drown,” says Dominic lightly. “Just swim in the current for a while.” He sighs. “You really aren’t as interesting as Connor. This isn’t as fun at all.”

 

Then Gus understands. “You are like child. Child who has had toy taken away from him. Petulant. When you are small, you have many things, yes? People do not say no. You are not understanding what it is not to have the things you want.” Gus stares at him. “Connor is not your toy. And he is far away from you now. This is blessing.”

 

Dominic’s face goes a little red, and Gus is satisfied. Then Dominic picks up a scalpel from the bench next to Gus. And Gus starts to feel small electricity through him, his senses telling him that there is danger. 

 

“No, he’s not my toy,” says Dominic, his voice harsh. “But you’re strapped to a chair right now and utterly defenseless. You’re second best, you know that? You’re the second choice. You’re everyone’s second choice. They chose to save Connor and sacrifice you, August. No one cares. You’re just the reject, the leftover. You weren’t even supposed to exist. Whatever I do to you, no one is going to care. You’re nothing.”

 

There are voices in Gus’s head that tell him he is nothing almost every day. 

 

He does not respect this man enough to think that what he says is important. 

 

Dominic moves closer to him, slowly and menacingly. Gus thinks that this is supposed to scare him. 

 

Inside his head there is a smile. He has been underestimated. 

 

Dominic is moving slowly but August is quick. 

 

He bites his lip and wrenches his arm out of the restraints. He knows he has broken the arm to make it work and he feels pain pain pain, but it gives him the time he needs to take the scalpel from Dominic, cut off his other restraint and tackle Dominic to the ground. 

 

August uses the scalpel to make a cut on Dominic’s face and Dominic screams in pain. 

 

“Even if I am nothing,” says August, his voice dark, “there are things I understand that you will never know.” He digs the scalpel into Dominic’s shoulder and Dominic screams again. “Why are you so upset?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow. “You have hurt my twin. You like the pain.”

 

Dominic struggles under August’s grip, but does not move. This does not surprise August. He knows this. 

 

Being August is old but still familiar. August knows how to kill this man. 

 

He wants to kill this man. For Connor. For himself. 

 

He pulls out the scalpel and holds it against Dominic’s throat. 

 

August wants to kill. To make this man suffer and bleed for what he has done. 

 

Gus does not want another death to remember. But he would like to go home.

 

Instead of slicing at Dominic’s throat like he wants to, Gus makes him unconscious. He is losing energy now, but he has the scalpel and he has an opportunity. He spits in Dominic’s face, climbs to his feet and heads to the door. 

 

Then he flies back as someone hits him with a tazer. He struggles to his feet again - he has had this before, he is not afraid - but they hit him again. 

 

Then there is a gunshot and Gus realizes his stomach is bleeding. 

 

There is pain. 

 

Painpainpain. 

 

Someone comes closer and puts something sharp in his neck. 

 

And then all is black.

 

* * *

 

Torpedo gets a phone call when he’s in an Uber on the way to the hotel to meet the others. 

 

The flight from LA had been… pretty alright. Every now and then he’s a bit nauseous, but in general, he feels better than he has in weeks. Months. Maybe even a whole year. He kind of feels like he could cartwheels. 

 

Not that he will, because he’s uncoordinated as fuck, but it’s nice to know that were he to choose to do so, the option is there. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted and unwell he’d been until he started to feel better and it’s… it’s overwhelming. 

 

It’s been a long time since he’s felt this hopeful. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Torpedo,” says a friendly British voice. “It’s Charles.”

 

“Oh hey, Beanpole.”

 

He sighs. “Fine. Beanpole it is.” Torpedo chuckles. “Listen, I just wanted to let you know that your mother is an absolute champion. She’s put together an article quick as anything and we’re underway. The whole plan is underway.”

 

“And you’ll keep her safe?” he asks, frowning a little. He knows his mom isn’t someone who’s afraid of taking risks, but he still worries that they’re playing with fire. 

 

“I’ll keep your mum safe.” Beanpole laughs, sounding a little giddy. “Honestly, she’s a bloody legend, your mum. Quick as a whip. Sharp as a tack. Glorious woman.”

 

“Please stop talking about your boner for my mom, dude.”

 

Torpedo vaguely notes his Uber driver choking back a laugh. 

 

He can practically hear Beanpole rolling his eyes. “Very funny. I’m sending you a link now, you need to check it out. Tell the others. It’s only the beginning - we’ll be flooding media with stories and information about what DYAD have been doing behind closed doors over the next 24 hours, and while they’re in a panic, that’s when we’ll strike.”

 

Torpedo grins. “That’s… wow. That’s wow. What’s this first one about? Who wrote it? Where’s it from?”

 

“Okay…”

 

* * *

 

Connor wakes up feeling better than he has. Less foggy. Less achey. His eye is still healing, but the wound seems to be less angry. It’s itchy, which he’d explained to Hannah and Reed and they’d both assured him it was probably because he was genuinely growing a new eyeball. 

 

It’s so fucking wild. 

 

He puts on an eyepatch, gets dressed and makes his way downstairs. He’s still not moving at optimum speed and he’s definitely still weak, but he’ll be damned if he’s spending another day stuck in bed. 

 

Connor also really, really, really wants to know what the fuck is going on. 

 

He’s been hearing bits and pieces. Snippets of low conversation. But no one seems to want to tell him what the plan is for getting Gus out, what’s happening at DYAD. 

 

If he goes downstairs, then maybe someone will finally give him some answers. 

 

He manages to make it down the stairs and onto a sofa when Torpedo bounds in, suitcase in tow and with more color in his face than Connor has seen in months. Torpedo’s face breaks into a wide grin as he sees Connor. 

 

“Dude, you’re up!” Torpedo says enthusiastically, heading straight toward Connor and pulling him into a hug, then sitting down next to him on the couch. “You’re looking heaps better.”

 

“So are you,” Connor replies, returning Torpedo’s smile. “It worked? The cure worked?”

 

“So far,” Torpedo says with a nod. “Obviously it’s all new but… I feel amazing. I really do.”

 

Connor’s heart does a little squeeze at that. “I’m so glad,” he says seriously. “I was… I was so fucking worried about you, you have no idea.”

 

“I have the cure for Lucas,” Torpedo assures him. “I’ve been in touch, he and Donna are on their way.”

 

“Hey Torpedo,” says a female voice from the top of the stairs. Connor looks up to see Zoe heading toward them, Hannah by her side. “Whoa, you look heaps better. It worked?”

 

“It worked,” says Torpedo. When Zoe and Hannah get to the bottom of the stairs, Torpedo grabs Hannah in the most enthusiastic hug Connor’s even seen. “You saved my life. You saved all of us. I…. fuck. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.”

 

Hannah’s kind of tearing up but shaking her head and Zoe’s beaming with pride. Absolutely beaming. “I… it wasn’t just me,” she says, her voice shaky but still firm. “All the base work, all the groundwork I worked off, it was all…” She shoots a quick look at Connor, then turns back to Torpedo. “It wouldn’t have worked if it weren’t for Evan,” she says gently. “Getting the info from DYAD to Ivy and to us. All the hours he spent. I was just lucky enough to find a breakthrough.”

 

Connor’s heart squeezes in his chest again, but not in a good way this time. Zoe shoots Connor a glance, bites her lip and then takes Hannah’s hand and they join Connor, the two of them curling up on a sofa opposite him. 

 

“Beanpole called,” Torpedo says, his voice excited. “Now that the cure’s sorted, they’re… they’re exposing DYAD. He sent me a link to this article.” Torpedo’s face drops a little and he bites his lip. “It’s, uh, it’s kind of disturbing. Just a warning.”

 

“Like, the writing or are there pictures?” Hannah asks, her voice timid. 

 

“Both,” Torpedo admits. 

 

“Let me see,” Connor demands, and Torpedo shows him the article on his phone. 

 

Connor’s stomach churns at the sight. 

 

It’s a clone, strapped to a chair, with the top of his skull sliced off. 

 

Electrodes attached to his brain. 

 

He’s completely immobilized and his eyes are full of terror and pain. 

 

“This is Yorick, isn’t it,” he says quietly. “This is what… this is what happened to him. Evan knew. The whole time, Evan knew.”

 

“He did,” Torpedo replies, his voice equally quiet. Then he looks at Connor, expression serious. “He took that picture. He provided information for this article. Beanpole told me.”

 

“Oh my god,” says Zoe, pale as anything as she sees the picture. “Oh my fucking god.”

 

“That’s… this guy’s in the basement at DYAD? The DYAD complex here in Boston?” Hannah asks, clearly shocked. “Oh my god.”

 

“Can we get him out and save him?” Zoe asks. 

 

Hannah looks doubtful. “I… I don’t think he’d survive outside a lab. I don’t know what they’ve done to him but… I don’t think he’d survive.”

 

“That’s what the article says,” Torpedo says, his voice gentle. “The writer of the article thinks the most humane thing to do is to kill him and… that’s not an easy conclusion for her to make.” He swallows, then continues. “His mom wrote this. Her name’s Miranda Gosse, she lives in Switzerland. She’s worked for DYAD her whole life. She was a surrogate, Yorick was raised by his two dads in Canada, but Miranda’s always stayed in touch. She was his monitor, the only one he kept in touch with while he was traveling, and… DYAD said they were treating him for an illness and then she stopped hearing from him. It was then she got in touch with the ESM and found out the truth.” Torpedo’s eyes darken. “She’s been working for DYAD to long that she’s in a position to uncover more than just this. Over the next 24 hours, we’ll be hearing more of her stories. She’s… she’s pretty badass, actually.”

 

“Shit,” says Connor, sinking back into the sofa. “Shit.”

 

His mind is having a hard time catching up with this. Evan knew this was happening. But Evan’s helping expose it. 

 

Evan’s in danger. 

 

There’s absolutely no doubt in Connor’s mind on that one. 

 

Evan is in a lot of danger. 

 

The front door opens, and it’s Seamus and Heidi, Pampushka in tow. They’re carrying bags of groceries and Heidi’s eyes widen when she sees Torpedo. Torpedo kind of waves awkwardly, and Heidi waves back awkwardly, and they disappear into the kitchen before coming back into the main space of the lobby. 

 

“Everyone’s here, then?” says Seamus hopefully. 

 

“Reed’s gone home to get some things,” Hannah says quietly. “But they’ll be back soon.”

 

“It’s all happening,” Torpedo says to Seamus seriously. “Have a look at this.” 

 

Heidi and Seamus crowd around Torpedo’s phone and Heidi looks physically ill. “What… what the hell?”

 

“This is just the beginning,” Torpedo says quietly. “There’ll be more and more information about what they’ve been doing behind closed doors coming out over the next 24 hours. Just a constant barrage of information.”

 

Seamus looks like he’s about to say something, then his phone beeps. He pulls it out and looks at the message and his face kind of shifts in what might be relief. “That was Evan,” he says, a little awkwardly. “The plan to get Gus out is underway tonight. Well, early tomorrow morning. We’re going in at 2am.”

 

“Evan’s got a plan to get Gus out?” Connor blurts out. 

 

Evan’s going to get Gus out. 

 

Evan’s going to save his brother. 

 

Even after Connor said he never wanted to see him again. 

 

Evan’s going to get Gus out. 

 

Even though it’s his fault Gus is there in the first place. 

 

Connor supposes he’s trying to make amends. He knows in his head it should be too little, too late, but…

 

This is more dangerous than a swap. 

 

This is…

 

This is potential suicide. 

 

“Evan’s part of a plan to get Gus out,” Seamus says, frowning just a little. “He’s a part of it. He’s… there’s a plan, if we all do our parts then everyone should get out alive.”

 

Heidi jolts in alarm. “Should?” she repeats, eyes wide. “That’s not what I want to hear. I want to hear that my son is getting out of there in one piece, come hell or high water.”

 

“I’ll do everything I can to keep your son safe,” says Seamus. “And rescue mine.”

 

Heidi kind of folds her arms and stares at Seamus challengingly for a while, then flushes a little and sighs. “Right. Okay. I’m going to unpack the groceries. We should… we should all eat, we’ll need to keep our strength up. I’ll make something.”

 

With that, Heidi leaves the room and Seamus watches her as she goes. 

 

Zoe catches Connor’s eye and he realizes they’ve both came to the same conclusion. “You have a crush on her,” says Zoe to Seamus, grinning just a little. 

 

“What?” Seamus says, alarmed. “I’m 48 years old, I don’t have a  _ crush _ .”

 

“Pretty sure you do,” Connor says, kind of enjoying the fact that Seamus is definitely going a little pink. “I can’t believe you have a crush on my boyfriend’s  _ mom _ , that is so fucking weird, oh my god.”

 

He chuckles, then it hits him that Evan’s not his boyfriend anymore. 

 

“Ex-boyfriend,” he corrects himself, and looks at his shoes for a moment. 

 

“I’m going to see if Heidi needs any help in the kitchen,” Zoe says. 

 

“No!” Hannah practically yells, and Zoe just stares at her for a moment. Hannah’s ears go pink. “I mean, uh, she’s probably fine. You just… you just stay here, I’m sure she’ll ask if she needs help.”

 

Connor remembers Evan’s explanation of Zoe’s disastrous Thanksgiving dinner and catches Hannah’s eye knowingly, who blushes even further. “I’ll go see if she’s okay,” he says finally, getting up and heading into the kitchen. He hears Zoe protest a little but Hannah clearly stops her. 

 

When he gets into the kitchen, Heidi frowns at him. “You shouldn’t be up,” she says gently. 

 

“Zoe wanted to come and help you with lunch,” Connor says, trying to keep his tone light, “but she’s the worst cook imaginable so I figured I’d spare everyone that horror. You, uh, you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” Heidi says, her voice a little clipped, then she puts down the bread she’s holding and looks straight at Connor. “Actually, I’m not. That’s a lie. This is all very weird and I’m worried out of my mind about my son, who’s caught up in the middle of this but refused to come back with us for a meal because you told him you never wanted to see him again.”

 

Connor blinks. “He gave my brother to DYAD.”

 

“To save you,” Heidi replies, looking like she’s trying very hard not to yell. “I get why you’re mad. I do. I’m mad at him. There were other ways. This was… this was a stupid move. But I have also been young and in love and a fucking idiot.” She sighs. “Evan… he lives in his head, he doesn’t… he should have talked to people, he shouldn’t have let himself get talked into what he did. But look at you! Honestly! I understand that you don’t want your brother to suffer like you did but… he saved your life, getting you out of there.”

 

“And condemned my brother to the same torture I got,” Connor replies, also trying very hard not to yell. “Trading a life for a life… that’s not a call anyone should get to make. It’s… it’s inhumane. And you know what’s worse? I knew DYAD was chipping away at his humanity and I tried to get him to stop. I did. I tried so hard and he wouldn’t listen.”

 

Heidi looks so, so, so sad. “He’s… he’s in bad shape,” she says quietly. “It’s not your problem and you have every right to hate him and never want to speak to him again. And what they say about hell and good intentions is absolutely true. But I know my son. I know who he is in his heart. He’s a good man. He’s… from all accounts, he’s been in a horrible situation and he’s made bad decisions. Lots of them. But he’s… he’s my son, he’s my little boy and in his heart he’s… he’s not a complete monster. He’s not.”

 

“I know that,” Connor says, his voice equally quiet. 

 

He doesn’t want to be talking about Evan with Evan’s mom. 

 

Not when the memory of his mom dying in Zoe’s arms is still fresh in his mind. 

 

Heidi sighs. “Sweetie, I don’t… I’m not saying this to be horrible.” She chuckles, a little darkly. “I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing here. I wanted… I wanted to go back to Evan’s, to look after him, to make sure he was looking after himself, to keep him safe, but the minute I suggested that he had a massive panic attack and wouldn’t stop shaking until I agreed to come back here where it’s safe. And then he made me promise I’d make you all tacos.” She throws her hands in the air and gestures at the bench. “So I’m making tacos.” 

 

“Do you want me to chop something?” Connor asks. 

 

Heidi just stares then laughs again. “There’s no way I’m giving you a knife when you’ve only got one eye, Connor.” She sighs. “But feel free to delegate someone onto onion chopping duty. And for god’s sake, just go sit down.” She smiles quietly. “You’re not healed yet. You’re lucky I don’t make Seamus pick you up and carry you back upstairs kicking and screaming.”

 

Connor nods, and heads to the door. He can’t help himself. He turns around and looks at Heidi. “I do love him, you know.”

 

Heidi’s eyes are sad. “I know you do.”

 

“It makes it all worse.”

 

“I know it does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	85. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben gets into NYU.

Connor gets home after school one afternoon in March, checks the letterbox and finds a big envelope from NYU. 

 

He takes it up the apartment and looks at it for a while. He’s watched enough television to know that the big envelope is supposed to mean good news. He’s pretty certain there was a whole ‘getting into college’ subplot on Gilmore Girls that he found vaguely annoying because he knew there was no way in fuck he was getting into college.

 

He makes a cup of coffee then rips the envelope open, to find out that Ben Childs has been accepted into New York University. 

 

Connor kind of hates that his first reaction is… pride. 

 

He’s going to college. 

 

But that’s not really true, is it? Ben’s going to college. Connor’s just a parasite, feeding off all of Ben’s hard work. 

 

Sure, he hasn’t managed to, like, completely flush Ben’s life down the toilet or anything, but let’s be honest - it’s not for lack of trying. 

 

Connor’s going to college. 

 

Connor doesn’t deserve to be going to college. 

 

Connor would never have gotten into NYU on his own merits, mostly because his merits are pretty non-existent. 

 

But still. 

 

College. 

 

It fills him with a weird kind of hope. 

 

Like he’s got some sort of future ahead or something. 

 

He thinks about watching Ben Childs dying on a park bench back home, and what he said to Connor before he gave Connor his blazer and his phone and his keys.

 

_ “You hate your life. Have mine. I don’t want it any more.” _

 

Connor still doesn’t feel like he deserves Ben Childs’ life. If you take away the weird clone conspiracy aspect, Ben Childs life is pretty great. He’s practically unsupervised, meaning he can do whatever the fuck he wants. His teachers are nice to him and want to help him succeed and don’t just write him off as a stoned moron. People don’t call him a freak in the hallways at school. 

That’s not really Ben’s life, Connor knows now. Ben’s life is loneliness and isolation and fear and the constant feeling that everything is spiralling out of control. Ben had a boyfriend he couldn’t talk to in public and a girlfriend who was reporting his every move to a mysterious organization. Parents who weren’t there. 

 

And secrets. 

 

So many secrets. 

 

Connor goes to Ben’s room and pulls out his laptop, then logs onto his secure email to see if there’s anything from Gus. Weirdly, he wants to tell his twin about this whole college thing. Just to see what his reaction will be. 

 

Sure enough, there’s an email from Gus. 

 

From: Gus    
To: Connor

Subject: small dog

 

_ Hello connor is gus _

_ I want to tell you i have new friend name pampushka _

_ I send photos in email for you to look _

_ She is Samoyed found under truck very dirty and missing hairs _

_ I go to rescue with S and we meet her she is very nice but sometime frighten _

_ Rescue say must be gentle because much fear  _

_ I think she is very good girl much fluff and very soft _

_ She will be friend and i will keep her safe _

_ Pampushka is still baby but is not small she will be big and strong with food and love so i give her this _

_ Look at photo she is very good _

_ Much love gus _

 

There are at least 15 photos attached to the email of a fluffy white puppy. Most of them are blurry and out of focus, but the ones that are of both Gus and Pampushka are significantly better, so Connor thinks that Seamus probably took them. 

 

Gus still looks too thin, but he looks a bit less haunted than he did when he left New York. And a lot more healthy than he did when Connor first met him. His hair is an unruly mess of curls but looks well cared for, and he’s in clean soft-looking clothes and fuzzy socks and Connor can’t help but smile looking at the photo. 

 

He’s getting better. 

 

Gus is getting better. 

 

Gus, who was raised to kill people with his own face, who was tortured and starved and forced to hurt himself and belittled. 

 

He’s getting better. 

 

If Gus is getting better, there’s hope for Connor, too. 

 

He sends an email back in reply. 

 

From: Connor

To: Gus

Subject: RE: small dog

 

_ Hi Gus _

 

_ Pampushka is beautiful. I’m sure she’s a very good girl. I know how much you like dogs so I’m really glad you got one. I think she’ll be really good for you.  _

 

_ Could you let S know that Ben got into NYU? That means I’ll be going to college next year. It’s good news. Big news, but good news. I think it’s going to be good.  _

 

_ I hope that you, Gus and Pampushka are all doing really well. It’s good to hear from you, and thank you for the photos. It’s nice to see your face. You look happy and healthy, and that makes me happy, too. _

 

_ Much love, _

_ Connor _

 

The next day when Pippa picks him up for school, Connor tells her about NYU. She smiles brightly, then her face gets a little sad. He’s not really sure what to do, but he figures he can at least ask. 

 

“Is everything okay?” 

 

“It’s fine,” she says hurriedly. She bites her lip, then looks at Connor. “I got into Princeton.”

 

Connor blinks. 

 

Princeton. He knows that’s a fucking big deal. 

 

Princeton. 

 

“Did, uh, did I know you were applying there?” he asks cautiously. 

 

Pippa goes a little pink. “No,” she replies honestly. “We always talked about going to NYU together, and I was totally into the idea, but Mom and Dad really wanted me to apply to Princeton because it’s where they went and where they met and… well, I did to make them happy and then, I got in.”

 

“That’s amazing,” Connor says, in all sincerity. Because it is. It’s amazing and it’s a big fucking deal. “You’re going to go, right?”

 

Pippa bites her lip again, then pulls over to the side of the road abruptly. 

 

Connor has no idea what to expect. 

 

“I’ve been part of a study,” she says slowly. “Long-term social matrices. It was about studying the long-term effects of babies who were born through IVF?”

 

“Oh,” says Connor, realizing with a sickening thud in his heart what she’s confessing. 

 

“And you were the subject.”

 

She’s sitting there staring at him and he’s not sure what to say. 

 

He’s not sure he’s making the right call when he responds, but he does it anyway. 

 

“I know, Pippa,” he says gently. “I’ve known for months.”

 

Pippa’s eyes well up with tears. “I’m so sorry.” She takes in a deep breath. “That’s why… that’s why it didn’t work between us, isn’t it? Because you knew.”

 

Connor nods. “Yeah.”

 

“But you didn’t say anything.”

 

Connor shrugs. “I… it was hard. I didn’t know how to talk about it. I…” he takes a deep breath and continues. “I saw something I shouldn’t have on your computer one time, and I’m sorry I looked, and I didn’t want to have that conversation about having accidentally spied on you, so I just… didn’t talk about it.”

 

It’s a blatant lie but he thinks it sounds vaguely plausible. 

 

He hopes it holds. 

 

“And then you stopped loving me,” Pippa says softly. 

 

“Not exactly,” he assures her. “But it was… it was part of it. It’s hard to… it was hard.”

 

“Is that when you and Jerome…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Pippa nods. “Okay.” She laughs a little. “I don’t really have the right to be mad. I just… the study made me feel important.”

 

Connor blinks. “You are important,” he tells her. Because she is. She’s smart and driven and has a brilliant mind. He doesn’t love her, he doesn’t have any romantic feelings for her at all, but he underestimated her from day one and now that they’re friends and not a couple, it’s… well, he’s gotten to know her as who she is. 

 

And now that she’s finally admitting to being his monitor…

 

He definitely underestimated her. 

 

“Did you, uh,” Connor says, a little awkwardly, “did you apply to NYU so we could stay together because of the study?”

 

“The people who run the study encouraged me to,” she says with a nod. “But… we’re not together anymore and Princeton is… it’s an amazing opportunity and I’d be crazy to pass it up. So I’m going to Princeton.” She smirks. “I got into NYU though. Obviously.”

 

Connor laughs. “Obviously.”

 

Pippa takes his hand and squeezes it. “Is it weird that I’m kind of relieved we’ve cleared the air about this?”

 

Connor shakes his head. “Not weird at all.” He looks at her intently. “Just… do me a favor, okay?”

 

Pippa nods. “Sure.”

 

“Don’t tell the people who run the study that you told me.” Pippa blinks and Connor rushes to explain. “I did… I did some research.”

 

“Of course you did.”

 

“I just… I don’t think they’d be very happy and I don’t want anything to happen to you, okay?”

 

Pippa bites her lip but nods. “Okay.”

 

Group chat:  **pinkpunk** ,  **soccer_guy** ,  **emochilds** ,  **torpeedo**

 

**emochilds:** Ben got into nyu

**emochilds** : just fyi

**pinkpunk** : omg connor

**pinkpunk** : ur going to college!

**pinkpunk** : that’s so awesome congrats

**emochilds** : ben got into college

**emochilds** : i had like

**emochilds** : nothing to do with it

**torpeedo** : dude

**torpeedo** : thats awesom

**torpeedo** : just bc u didnt do the app

**torpeedo** : doesnt mean u didn’t earn it

**emochilds** : ok but

**emochilds** : i literally didn’t

**emochilds** : earn it that is

**soccer_guy** : no offense but why does that matter

**soccer_guy** : your going to college and thats a big deal

**soccer_guy** : especially for ur stoner ass

**pinkpunk** : burn

**pinkpunk** : lol

**pinkpunk** : but lucas is right

**pinkpunk** : u get 2 go 2 college

**emochilds** : i guess

**emochilds** : just feels like cheating?

**emochilds** : u kno?

**torpeedo** : ppl say there are no cheat codes in life

**torpeedo** : they r wrong

**torpeedo** : we r white dudes 

**torpeedo** : we have like

**torpeedo** : all the cheat codes

**torpeedo** : xcept reed 

**torpeedo** : not a dude

**torpeedo** : but still white

**torpeedo** : so

**pinkpunk** : so tru

**pinkpunk** : i feel like thinking ur cheating is a common feeling

**pinkpunk** : but not helpful

**soccer_guy** : and once you get to college it’s like

**soccer_guy** : all you right?

**soccer_guy** : so its the perfect place to just be u

**emochilds** : thats oddly insightful

**emochilds** : thanks dude

**soccer_guy** : whatever

**pinkpunk** : awww

 

Later that night he gets a call from an unknown number. After staring at his phone for a while, he decides to brave it and answers the call. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Connor? It’s Seamus.”

 

Connor frowns. “Is everything okay?”

 

Seamus sounds surprised. “Everything’s fine. I just… wanted to touch base. Gus told me about NYU.”

 

“Oh,” says Connor, kind of taken aback. “I just… I just figured that we weren’t going to be in touch much because of safety and stuff, so…”

 

“I thought it was important,” says Seamus gently. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you.”

 

Connor blinks. “It was Ben’s application,” he points out. “I… I didn’t earn this. I’m just kind of… taking advantage of the fact that Ben plans ahead, I guess.”

 

Seamus is quiet for a moment. “Do you want to go to college?”

 

Connor doesn’t even hesitate with his answer. “Yes.”

 

“Then you’re not taking advantage of anything,” Seamus replies firmly. “You deserve to have the things you want. You’re no fool, son. If you want to be there and you apply yourself and work hard, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t succeed on your own merits.”

 

“Yeah, but…” Connor tries to explain. He takes a breath and continues. “Ben worked hard for this and he’s not… he’s not here to see it all happen. It’s not fair.”

 

Seamus goes quiet again. “It’s not fair at all,” he says finally, his voice soft and a little pained. “There are so many things about Ben that just aren’t fair. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to have a chance to make your own future. I think college is going to be really good for you, Connor. You’ll get a chance to carve out your own path. Not Ben’s path, but yours.”

 

“I’m still not sure what my path is,” Connor admits. 

 

Seamus laughs. “Neither am I and I’ve got 26 years on you, kid. It’s okay not to know. What’s important is you keep moving forward, even if it’s just a little bit.” His voice goes fond. “I am proud of you. I think it’s worth repeating.”

 

Connor wants to argue. He wants to say that there’s no reason to be proud, that he’s done nothing. That he is nothing. But he doesn’t want to upset Seamus and…

 

Well, he’s a tiny bit proud. 

 

Because at the end of the day, he’s survived. 

 

Connor’s been Ben for months now. Part of him honestly thought that being Ben would solve all his problems, would make Connor Murphy a thing of the past. 

 

But Connor has to admit one thing. 

 

The best moments he’s had since becoming Ben? 

 

They’re the ones he’s had as _himself._

 

If he’d really been Ben, Gus would have killed him straight away and he’d have never gotten the chance to know him. Really know him. Strip back the layers of torture and brainwashing to the sweet kid underneath. His brother. His twin. 

 

It was being Connor that made that happen. 

 

Torpedo says that Ben kept to himself. He wasn’t close with the other clones. He’d keep secrets and hold things back, carry everything on his own shoulders and never ask for help. 

 

But when Connor melted down, Torpedo was there. So was Reed. So was Lucas, in his own way. Ben didn’t let his clones help him, and Ben died on a park bench in a town he didn’t know with no one but a stranger with his face to bear witness. 

 

Connor let his clones in. 

 

And Connor survived. 

 

He’s not Ben Childs. He’s not just a copy of Ben Childs. He’s Connor, and Connor’s a fucking mess most of the time but he’s _alive._ And he’s going to college. 

 

He’s going to have a future. 


	86. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape.

Evan sits in his car in the parking lot of McDonald’s and drinks his third black coffee. He hates black coffee, but he needs to stay awake for what he needs to do. Not that he’s in any danger of falling asleep. He hasn’t slept in days. He just needs to get through what has to be done. 

 

It’s nearly 2am. 

 

He checks the pocket of his hoodie to make sure the envelope is in it. 

 

If he dies tonight, he wants to make sure that the things left unsaid in person make their way into the hands of those who need to hear them. 

 

There’s something poetic about potential suicide notes in his hoodie. 

 

Just like Connor. 

 

Well, not Connor. Ben. 

 

But it was Connor’s hoodie, so…

 

Just like Connor. 

 

Evan still can’t bring himself to regret the time he spent with Connor over the past few months, even if it’s all come to this. 

 

He thinks it was worth it. 

 

There’s a dull ache in his arm. There’s no reason for there to be, he thinks it must be psychosomatic. 

 

Perhaps the universe has just been waiting for him to finally get his act together and die, like he should have when he let go of that tree branch so many years ago. 

 

Back then he never made a sound. 

 

This time around, if he does it right, he’ll make everything better. 

 

He drives to the parking lot of the DYAD Institute to find a nondescript car waiting. He can see his mom in the front seat. 

 

He waves, then gets out, and his mom gets out and hugs him tightly and kisses him and tells him to be safe. 

 

Evan thinks about giving her the envelope now. 

 

After all, there’s a note for her in it. 

 

He thinks about telling her what he’s about to do. 

 

But that would mean he couldn’t do it. 

 

So he tells her he’s going to be okay and he and Seamus walk straight through the front door into the DYAD building. 

 

Seamus shoots the security guard the minute they walk in, then nods at Evan, who breaks into a run down the familiar corridors.

 

Down into the basement. 

 

Behind him, he hears a commotion and realizes Seamus has gotten caught up with more security. He thinks about turning back to help but he remembers what Seamus told him. 

 

Gus is the priority. 

 

Getting Gus out is the priority. 

 

He keeps going. 

 

* * *

 

Larry Murphy sits in an office in one of DYAD’s upper levels and smiles grimly to himself. Then presses SEND and emails nearly 3 decades worth of information about the DYAD Institute to an email address written on a scrap of paper. 

 

If he makes it out of this alive, he’ll no doubt be facing criminal investigations for the things he’s done. But at this stage, that’s a big if. 

 

He walks around the corner calmly to his next destination. It’s a well-lit room, or at least it would be if it weren’t the middle of the night. Classy, well-decorated, almost homey but not quite. A bed is in the middle of the room and Dominic Morgan is asleep, hooked up to an IV as he recovers from a stab wound. 

 

Dominic opens his eyes as Larry walks in and smiles. “Mr. Murphy,” he says, his tone almost pleasant. Dominic’s smile never quite sits right behind his eyes. It just hangs there like a dead thing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“I thought we might have a little chat,” says Larry, pulling up a chair beside his bed. “About my wife.”

 

Dominic smiles wider. “Ah yes. I sent flowers, did you get them? Terrible accident. What a tragedy.”

 

Larry thinks about his wife, bleeding out in an armchair, and feels like throwing up. “I’m not an idiot, Dominic.”

 

“No,” says Dominic thoughtfully. “You’re not. You’ve made it this far, after all.” He smiles again. “Plenty of people come and go with DYAD, but you’ve been around all of my life. Even when I was young.”

 

Larry remembers the first time he met Dominic Morgan. He was six years old and being trotted out in front of the board as an example of a DYAD raised clone. There’d been something dead behind his eyes back then, too. 

 

Dominic was always calm and serious and watching. Always watching. Talked about as if he weren’t there. Never touched, never given any affection. A subject. A self-aware clone, DYAD born and bred. 

 

As a father, Larry had always found it horribly sad. Especially since this boy looked exactly like his son, right down to the little patch of brown in one of his blue eyes. 

 

“I remember,” says Larry, his tone careful. 

 

“You were the only person who ever treated me like a person, you know,” Dominic says, his voice almost casual. “At least, as a child. I was invisible to DYAD until I turned 15 and was suddenly brought into board meetings. But when I was a child, you were always kind to me.”

 

“You were a child who looked exactly like my child,” Larry replies. “I felt sorry for you.”

 

Something dark and twisted passes across Dominic’s face. Soon it smooths into something glossy and dangerous and disturbingly fake. “When I was twelve we played catch one time,” he says, like it doesn’t matter at all. “You said all these things about breaking in a baseball glove. I of course didn’t do any of them. What would be the point? You were only ever around once every couple of years.” He looks at Larry pointedly. “It wasn’t like you tried to be my father.”

 

“Because I wasn’t your father,” says Larry. This conversation is wearing on him. He doesn’t trust this man. He’s never truly trusted this man. Not even when he was a child. 

 

“You’re not exactly father of the year,” says Dominic with a cruel smile. “How must it feel to know that your son hated you so much that he faked his own death to get away from you?”

 

“You’re not an idiot either,” says Larry as calmly as he can. “You know that it’s infinitely more complicated than that.”

 

“Complicated is just a word people use to make themselves feel better about things they don’t want to be true,” Dominic comments. “He hated you. Connor hated you.”

 

“It’s possible,” says Larry, gritting his teeth. “We never had the best relationship.”

 

“He thought you hated him, too,” says Dominic with delight. “He said so himself when I asked him if you were the one who helped him escape. You know, when I was a child I idolized you. I wanted you to take me away from DYAD and live with you in your perfect American dream house. But when you couldn’t even keep  _ your _ son alive, I realized I got the much better deal.”

 

“Connor and I had a difficult relationship,” Larry says, and he’s feeling his blood boil as he continues. “He was a difficult child and I didn’t always get it right. I tried, but I failed. But do you know what, Dominic? Even in those moments when Connor and I were screaming at each other, when he’d come home high and get into fights in school… there was always a part of me that was grateful.” Larry leans in and stares Dominic down. “Grateful that he wasn’t you. Because even in the moments when Connor was at his worst, he was  _ always _ better than you.”

 

Dominic’s face contorts into something grotesque. “He got everything and he threw it away,” Dominic spits out. “Did you know that he was supposed to be raised like me? That was the plan, I read it in his files. But then at the last minute, they decide to give him to a family. Give  _ him _ to a family. Not me. Him. He got everything. A family. A home. People who cared about him, who cared when he was gone.”

 

Dominic laughs cruelly and continues. “I remember you in the aftermath of his suicide, Larry. You were a shell of a man. A ghost. He never deserved your pain, your sorrow, your grief. He didn’t deserve  _ any _ of it. And then after all that, he shows up again and it turns out, he’s not going to get sick like the rest of us? He’s taken everything. He  _ always _ takes everything.”

 

It’s all so childish Larry wants to laugh. “You’re jealous of Connor and when he was out of your custody, you lashed out by murdering his mother,” Larry says flatly. “That was a stupid move, Dominic.”

 

Dominic laughs. “I don’t care. Imagining how much pain he must be in, how much pain you must be in… it was worth it.” He snarls. “DYAD don’t trust you anymore, Larry. Your days are numbered. Security’s on its way to take you in.”

 

Larry closes his eyes and opens them again. “Alright,” he says simply. 

 

Then in one swift motion, he pulls the pillow out from under Dominic’s head and presses it to his face. He holds it there until the body stops thrashing and he thinks about his family. 

 

He thinks about Zoe and how happy he is to see that she’s found someone who’ll understand her, who’ll be there for her, who’ll give her the things she deserves but he and Cynthia haven’t been able to provide. 

 

He thinks about Cynthia, how she’s stood by him through thick and thin, how she never knew the horrors he committed in DYAD’s name, how she took in a baby out of nowhere with very little questioning and did the best she could to make them a family. 

 

And he thinks about Connor. He thinks about taking him home in a brand new baby car seat, still with the tags on, driving as carefully as he could back to the home and hearing him make the tiniest, softest baby sounds. He thinks about seeing him in a tiny box with a wristband on his tiny wrist with his ID number instead of his name. 

 

Connor wasn’t Connor when Larry took him home. 

 

He was just 887R95-A. A whole month he spent with DYAD, and no one bothered to name him. No one knew what name his previous parents had given him, or at least if they did then no one told Larry. All he knew is that 887R95-A had been born in Ireland. 

 

When Larry was driving home, he thought about deciding on a name for the baby with Cynthia. It’s what he should have done, honestly. But he knew that there were things about his son that no one but him should ever know. One of those things was that he was born in Ireland. 

 

Larry wanted him to have an Irish name. 

 

So he picked the name himself. 

 

He got home that day in early 2000 with a baby in his arms and as Cynthia stared at him like he’d lost his mind, he’d smiled at her and gestured for her to come meet their son. 

 

Their son Connor. 

 

He wishes he had the chance to say goodbye. 

 

There’s a dark-haired woman in the doorway. She goes pale as she sees Larry holding the pillow over Dominic’s head and pulls out her weapon. 

 

Then she pulls the trigger. And Larry Murphy dies, still thinking about his son.

 

* * *

 

Gus wakes up and there is even more fog in his brain than usual. He thinks they have given him more now. More to keep him still. His arm is sore, but not too sore. He thinks that it heals fast, and this is a blessing. 

 

He cannot move at all now. He is being held by many straps, including many on his arms and one on his neck. 

 

This is not so good. It will be hard to leave now. 

 

But he will continue to plan. 

 

He hears a loud thump, and then the door swings open, and he blinks because he does not think he understands what he sees. 

 

It is Evan. Connor’s Evan. The man who brought him here. 

 

Evan is pale and shaking. “I took out the security guard,” he says quietly. “I’m getting you out of here.”

 

Gus does not know what to say, so he nods. 

 

He would like to leave very much. 

 

Evan starts to undo his restraints and Gus tries to maintain focus. The fog is very thick, almost too thick, and he thinks he might be going to sleep again. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Evan’s voice says, urgent. “Stay with me, Gus. I’m going to need you to get out of here.”

 

Gus lays his head back on the chair, just for a moment. He can hear noises. Then all of a sudden there is a sharp pain in his chest, then he has energy. Almost painful energy. 

 

“Adrenaline,” Evan says as Gus stares at him, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you. We just… we need to get you out of here.”

 

Gus stands up. He feels electricity in his bones. He feels like he is shaking. But he can walk. He can fight. He can battle the fog. 

 

Evan takes off his hoodie and gives it to Gus. “Here,” he says. “Wear this. You’re going to be cold.”

 

“You will also be cold,” Gus points out, putting it on. It is nice. It smells nice and it is very soft. He thinks there is something in the pocket, but this is not important now. 

 

“I need to do something before I go,” says Evan, biting his lip. “If you go down that corridor, you should catch up with Seamus. He’ll get you out.”

 

Gus shakes his head. “I stay with you,” he insists. He is shaky. He does not know if he can be strong. Evan is his friend and has helped him leave the room. He is scared and does not want to be alone. 

 

Evan bites his lip again, then nods. “Okay,” he says, his voice tired. “Just… forgive me, okay? I… please just forgive me.”

 

“For what?” Gus asks. 

 

Evan’s eyes are very sad. “Everything.”

 

He follows Evan around the corner, still full of the fake energy. The adrenaline. They go down a corridor, a different direction to where Evan was pointing. Further into the Institute. 

 

Gus’s stomach is in knots. He does not want to be here. But he very much does not want to be alone, so he continues on. 

 

They do not go far. Evan opens a door and Gus’s eyes widen in shock as he sees a man strapped to a chair. 

 

The man has his face.

 

Another clone. This is not all surprising. 

 

What is surprising is that Gus can see his brain. 

 

His head is open and Gus can see his brain. 

 

“This place is going up in flames tonight,” Evan says to the clone. “I want to get you out of here but you wouldn’t survive.” The clone simply blinks. “You… you asked me to kill you the last time we spoke and I said I wouldn’t. But if you want me to now, just… blink twice, and I’ll do it.”

 

The clone blinks twice. The action is deliberate and cannot be confused. 

 

Evan starts to cry, then goes into the corner and takes out some needles. Gus looks at him, his face sad. 

 

“I can do this,” Gus offers. “I can give him peace.” Gus has taken lives before and this one is mercy. This is something he can do. Evan seems so sad, so broken. Gus does not like this.

 

Evan shakes his head firmly. “No,” he says, voice sad. “I can’t let you carry another death, Gus. It’s my fault he’s here, I should be the one to… to give him peace.”

 

The clone has tears in his eyes but looks happy. Evan goes to the needle and tube attached to the clone’s arm and inserts the syringe, then looks at Yorick again. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. “This is morphine, so… you won’t feel any pain.”

 

The clone opens his mouth. His voice is raspy and rough, like he is having trouble speaking. “Thank... you.” 

 

Evan just nods, then inserts another syringe. Then another. Then another. Soon the monitor attached to the clone begins to beep frantically, then there is a sound of flatline, and Gus knows that the clone is dead. 

 

“Rest well, Yorick,” says Evan softly. 

 

Gus remembers something dimly. “Fellow of infinite jest,” he offers, his voice weak.

 

Evan nods again. “I think even Shakespeare would find what happened to him unnecessarily cruel.”

 

Gus does not think he disagrees. “We go now,” he says to Evan, his voice firm. “We leave together. You have given peace.”

 

Gus is starting to feel the fog come over him again. He stumbles, and Evan swears and gives him some syringes. “You can use these when you think you need them,” he says. “More adrenaline. It’s… it’s not great to use tons of it, but I figure with your abilities, you can probably handle it.”

 

Gus takes a syringe and stabs himself with it, feeling the rush of energy. “We go quickly,” he says, gasping a little, and Evan nods and they head back down the corridor, Evan taking the lead because he knows where to go. 

 

They turn the corner and Gus sees it is Dr. McAllistair, holding a gun. Her eyes are sad when she sees Evan. 

 

Evan is pale. “You need to get out of here,” he says urgently. “This whole place is going to blow soon.”

 

“And you’re helping him escape?” Dr. McAllistair asks, her voice disbelieving. “He’s a killer.”

 

“So am I,” Evan says, his voice steady even though his body is shaking. 

 

Dr. McAllistair frowns. “What?”

 

“I killed Yorick. I wanted to put him out of his misery. Let him die in peace.”

 

Dr. McAllistair looks very troubled at this, then shakes her head. “It’s not the same. I can’t let you leave with him.”

 

Evan laughs, even though it is not funny. “Don’t you get it? The whole place is going to blow. I’m getting him out, you need to get out, too.”

 

The doctor’s eyes darken. “I’ll help you get him out as long as he stays in my custody. There’s a lot we can learn from him.”

 

Evan shakes his head. “Not happening.”

 

The doctor raises her gun and points it at Evan. “Don’t make me do this, Evan. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“I’m not letting him be taken again,” Evan says, his voice fierce. 

 

Gus is very frightened for Evan. “Evan, you do not need to-”

 

The doctor aims the gun at Gus and pulls the trigger. Gus braces for the impact but it does not come. 

 

Evan falls to the floor. 

 

He has taken the bullet. 

 

He has taken the bullet for Gus. 

 

Gus is overcome with grief and rage. The doctor looks shocked. Before she can do anything, Gus lunges for her and wraps his hands around her neck. He hears a snap, and she falls to the floor, eyes open but dead. 

 

He takes in a deep breath, then turns to look at Evan. 

 

Still breathing. 

 

This is good. 

 

He turns Evan over to see a hole in his stomach. Evan is shaking now, gasping for breath, eyes unfocused. 

 

Gus hears the sounds of an explosion.

 

“It’s starting,” Evan says, his voice weak and far away. “You need to go.”

 

“I do not leave you,” Gus insists. 

 

Evan shakes his head. “I’ll slow you down. You need to get out. Just down that corridor, there’s a stairwell to the corner and a security exit. Seamus is here somewhere, he’ll be looking for you. Take my phone and tell him you’re safe.”

 

Gus does not think Evan is listening. “I said I do not leave you.”

 

“You’re as stubborn as your twin,” Evan says, his voice tired. He looks like he will sleep soon, and Gus cannot let this happen. He goes to use the syringe on Evan but Evan takes the last one and shoves it in Gus’s leg. 

 

Then Evan is asleep. 

 

And Gus does not think he will wake. 

 

He is very lost now. But he follows the instructions Evan gives him and runs down the corridor, energy pulsing through him. He is shaky and his brain is screaming but the part of him that insists on survival is taking over, and soon he is through the security exit and out of the building. A moment later, another person comes out the security exit. 

 

It is his dad. 

 

Gus has never been so happy to see his dad.

 

Seamus starts to cry and pulls Gus into a hug. “Where’s Evan?” asks Gus’s dad, and Gus starts to cry. 

 

There is ringing in Gus’s ears as they move toward a car, and he does not notice all details. There is a blonde woman he does not know who yells at his dad, then cries, and Seamus helps them both into the backseat of the car, and then starts to drive. 

 

The woman is screaming about her son. 

 

Evan is her son. 

 

Gus puts his hand in his pocket and finds an envelope. He sees Evan’s name on it and gives it to the woman. “This is his hoodie,” he says, his voice dazed. “He gives this to me.”

 

The energy is leaving him. He is starting to slip away into the fog. He closes his eyes and hears the woman crying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	87. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Gus reunite.

Connor can’t sleep. He heads down to the lobby gingerly, only to find that everyone’s up. Zoe and Hannah are cuddling on the sofa, Reed and Torpedo are playing Connect Four and Donna and Lucas have arrived sometime since Connor went to rest and are both on the floor, petting Pampushka. He takes a seat on the other sofa and everyone just looks at him then goes back to what they’re doing. 

 

The atmosphere is so tense he can taste it. 

 

“Lucas took the cure,” Donna says. Connor’s not really surprised she’s the one to break the silence. “He says he’s feeling a bit better. Right, babe?”

 

Lucas smiles a little. “Yeah. Headaches are gone.”

 

“Good feeling, isn’t it?” says Torpedo, his voice warm. He smiles and everyone seems to relax just a little. “I’m just… it’s so fucking awesome to feel better.”

 

“You’re not… you’re not feeling like you want to take more fentanyl for kicks, right?” Connor asks hesitantly. “You were on it for a while.”

 

“Kind of a bit nauseous,” Torpedo admits, “but I’m not fucking touching that stuff again.”

 

Connor nods. “Good. Good, I’m glad. It’s… fuck, rehab is not fun.”

 

He catches Zoe’s eye at that and she goes pale. He regrets having mentioned rehab instantly and wants to look away, but can’t help but notice there are tear tracks on her face. 

 

There’s been so much going on that it’s hard to make himself even think about his mom. Connor knows it’s coming, that he’s just delaying the inevitable moment where he has to face the reality that his mom is dead, that they only got a few moments together before she died, that they’d spent three years apart and that everything is horrible and messy and he’ll be fucking devastated the moment he lets himself think about it properly. 

 

He’s putting off thinking about it. 

 

Zoe might be as well, Connor thinks.

 

They should talk. 

 

He should talk to her one on one. Let her scream. Let her yell. Let her get some of that anger out, because fuck knows he deserves it. 

 

Maybe they can help each other. 

 

The fact that she’s here, that he’s safe and he’s still here… it means something, right? It means she hasn’t completely given up on him, after everything he put her through. 

 

The front door opens and Pampushka barks. Everyone turns to see Seamus and Heidi, carrying a bloody and barely conscious Gus into the building. 

 

Connor’s hit with an intense wave of relief. He gets to his feet and heads straight for Gus as fast as he can. 

 

“Hey,” he says, helping Seamus put Gus on the sofa then sitting down next to him. “Gus, hey. It’s me. It’s Connor. You’re safe. They got you out. You’re safe.”

 

Gus’s eyes are unfocused at first, then he locks eyes with his twin and bursts into tears. Connor dimly realizes that Heidi and Seamus are both crying as well. Gus grabs Connor and hugs him and dissolves into tears on his shoulder and Connor has the horrible, horrible feeling that something has gone wrong. 

 

“Did Evan get home okay?” he asks as realization dawns. 

 

“He takes bullet,” says Gus into Connor’s shoulder. “He takes bullet for me and does not wake. I could not… I could not take him from DYAD, I had no strength, and when we leave, there is explosion. And fire. I… I think that he is dead. And that he wanted this.”

 

Gus’s crying starts afresh and Connor’s frozen in shock. 

 

No.

 

No, that’s not possible. 

 

It’s not even slightly possible that Evan’s dead. 

 

Not when Connor’s not done. 

 

Connor’s not done yelling at him. He’s not done making him see how much he’s fucked up. He’s not done dragging him to a doctor to get proper treatment for his anxiety, making him go on a fucking holiday and getting away from DYAD. Helping him rest and recover and find himself again, because the man who traded his brother for his life is not the man he fell in love with but he knows the Evan that Connor loves is still in there somewhere, he just needs to…

 

Evan’s not done. 

 

Evan and Connor are not done. 

 

Evan can’t be dead. 

 

Dimly, Connor realizes that Zoe’s gotten up and hugged Heidi, who’s an absolute mess. Connor’s heart breaks. It’s her son. She’s lost her son. She’s just lost her son, who she loves more than anything. She…

 

Connor’s sobbing against his twin before he realizes what he’s doing. Gus just cries more and more and they sit there for what feels like hours, Pampushka curled up at their feet. 

 

“He… he left this envelope,” says Heidi, her voice very small. “I… it’s got notes in it. I think they’re… I think he planned this. I don’t think he meant to get out of DYAD alive.”

 

Connor wants to scream. 

 

Evan. 

 

Oh my god, Evan. 

 

You stupid fuck, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?

 

There’s a rustling of paper, and Connor is gently handed a piece of paper. He wants to rip it into pieces, crumble it into a ball, throw it across the room, try to see if Pampushka will eat it, fuck he doesn’t know. But the realization dawns that it’s all he has of Evan and…

 

He pulls himself away from Gus for a moment then walks to a corner of the room to read it. 

 

_ Dear Connor Murphy _

 

_ I love you. I love you so much. Please understand that I’m trying to make things right. I know you never want to see me again and you’ll never forgive me, and that’s completely understandable. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I’ve done. What I’ve let myself justify. You said I was losing myself that night at the lake house and you weren’t wrong. I don’t recognize myself anymore and I can’t live like this. I’m sorry. I love you.  _

 

_ I once told you that you were the best thing to ever happen to me. That’s still true. I wouldn’t give up any of the time we had together even if it got me out of this mess. I love you and I always will. I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so sorry I let myself get carried away in this. Everything you said about me was true and I didn’t want to hear it. It’s all true and I’m trying to make things right.  _

 

_ If you’re reading this, then hopefully - and I really, really, really hope this is true - Gus is out of DYAD custody and with you. Tell him I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I want you guys to be happy and spend time together and have amazing lives.  _

 

_ I love you. I’m sorry.  _

 

* * *

 

Gus’s heart is very torn. 

 

His twin is screaming and crying and yelling and Gus wants to scream and yell as well, but instead he just cries. 

 

He wants to go to his twin and give him comfort, but he does not have comfort to give, so he just cries and curls in on himself. 

 

He does not understand why Evan would take the bullet for him. Evan knows Gus can heal and Evan cannot, so the only reason is that Evan is wanting to die. 

 

Gus knows this feeling well and his heart hurts that Evan has done this. 

 

He is angry at Evan for leaving Connor. 

 

He is angry at himself for leaving Evan. 

 

He is very tired and very sad and there is much fog in his brain. 

 

Life goes dark for a while, and when he wakes up, he is in a bed, and Connor is asleep next to him. This is a comfort, he thinks. There is a faint glow of light in the room, and Gus thinks that the morning is breaking. 

 

He does not want to wake his twin, so moves as quietly as he can, but is interrupted by a small voice. 

 

“I’m awake.”

 

Gus rolls over so he is face to face with his twin. He is aching and his stomach is a little sore, but it is healing well. Gus sees there is a bandage on Connor’s face and frowns. 

 

“Your eye.”

 

Connor sighs. “Dominic ripped it out with a scalpel. They say it’s growing back.”

 

Gus growls. “He came to see me.”

 

Connor sits up, his face full of terror and shadows in the dim light. “What? What did he do?”

 

“He tried to hurt me but I am too fast,” Gus says, with more than small satisfaction. “I break arm to get out and I cut his face. Then stab him in shoulder. I almost escape, but there is tazer and gunshot, so it does not work.” He feels grief and rage take his stomach once again. “Evan got me out. Kept me safe. Helped me escape. He…” Gus cannot continue. 

 

Connor’s voice is still small and weak. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

 

“I am sorry,” Gus says, his voice and heart heavy. “I am sorry that your Evan is gone. You… you do not deserve to lose another man you love.”

 

Connor doesn’t answer for a while and Gus can see that there are tears. “We broke up,” he says, his voice flat and full of pain.

 

Gus frowns, and then has a realization. “It is because of me. It is because of Evan’s plan, yes?”

 

Connor just nods. “It was wrong. What he made you do was wrong. You understand that, right? He shouldn’t have… that was such a bad plan, oh my god. Please don’t… please don’t ever do that again. You can’t throw away your life for me. I’m not… I can’t deal with that, okay?”

 

Gus is not sure how to respond to this. “I hope,” he says gently, “that we are never again in situation where this is necessary. But I cannot promise I will do nothing when you are in danger, even if it puts me in danger.” He takes Connor’s hand and squeezes it. “Evan did not force me to do this. It is my decision.”

 

“He shouldn’t have asked,” Connor says firmly. 

 

“Maybe this is so,” Gus agrees, “but I was given a choice. This is important to me. To have a choice. So many times in my life, I am not given a choice but here… Evan was kind. He did not just take. I think that DYAD could have just taken. But he is asking me and this is… important to know.”

 

Connor’s quiet for a moment, then snorts a little. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still bullshit. I hate him. I hate him for doing this.”

 

“You hate him for leaving you,” Gus says gently. 

 

“I hate him for a lot of reasons and they’re all valid.”

 

Gus nods. “Yes. And you are allowed to feel how you feel. But I think… I think under it all, Evan is good man who makes bad choices.” He squeezes Connor’s hand. “You saw good man in me, yes? Even after I try to kill you? You can see good man in Evan.”

 

“I can’t see anything in Evan,” Connor says quietly. “He’s dead.”

 

Connor starts to sob and Gus pulls his twin close to him and lets him cry some more. 

 

Gus is crying, too.

 

* * *

 

Lucas gets up in the morning and heads to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Donna’s still asleep and he doesn’t want to wake her, or anyone else, so he’s as quiet as he can be. 

 

When he gets into the kitchen, he finds Heidi Hansen curled up in a ball in front of the fridge, sobbing into a mug of coffee.

 

Lucas is probably the last person in the world who’s going to be any help right now, but he sits down next to her anyway. 

 

“Hi,” he says, feeling like a complete fucking idiot.

 

Heidi starts, then looks at him and frowns a little. “Hello,” she says, her voice rough from crying. “Which one are you?”

 

“Lucas.”

 

She nods. “Right. Lucas. You’re in… Connecticut? You’re in business school, you like soccer, you’re engaged.”

 

Lucas is kind of impressed. “That’s me, yeah.”

 

She smiles a little weakly. “Sorry. It’s just… a lot of faces.”

 

“Yeah.” He pats her knee awkwardly. “My parents are basically the WASPiest people alive so I have absolutely no idea what to do or say here because they never taught me how to deal with emotions like a human being.”

 

Heidi laughs a little through her sobs. “There’s not really a right thing to say here,” she says, wiping her face. “I just keep… I keep hoping that when the dust settles, he’ll come walking through the front door and I’ll kick his ass for scaring me.”

 

“Do they… do we think that’s likely?”

 

Heidi shrugs. “I don’t know. I know he got shot, I know the building caught fire and there were explosions... so I can’t see how unless there’s someone looking out for him who got him out. And even then… he might not survive anyway.” She bursts into fresh sobs. “He’s my son. He’s made mistakes but he’s my boy. He’s… he’s the best thing that ever happened to me and if he’s really gone, I don’t know how I can live with myself.”

 

“Evan and I weren’t close,” Lucas says, as calmly as he can. “And yeah, everyone was… pretty fucking pissed at him after he swapped Gus to get Connor back. But…” Lucas takes a deep breath and verbalizes what’s been going on his head ever since this all began. “If I’d been in Evan’s place, I would have done exactly the same thing. Without a moment’s hesitation. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person, but… if it had been Donna, I’d have traded in any one of my brothers for her safety.” He kind of frowns at himself. “I’m not proud of it. It’s not… it’s a dick move, I know. But for Donna? I’d burn down the world. I love her that much.” 

 

Heidi’s quiet for a moment, then grabs his hand and squeezes it. “I don’t think it makes you a bad person,” she says quietly. “It’s not… it’s not a normal situation people get themselves into. You can sit there and say that you’d never do something like that, but until you’re in the position when you have to, how can you know?” She laughs a little. “When it’s theoretical, it’s easy to have the moral high ground.”

 

“He could still be okay,” Lucas offers, a little weirded out by this woman he doesn’t really know holding his hand. He doesn’t know her. He doesn’t even know her son all that well. He’s the least qualified person to be sitting in this kitchen with her. Part of him wants to go get Donna or Torpedo or Reed or Zoe or Hannah or Pampushka or literally anyone else, because he shouldn’t be here doing this. 

 

But here he is. 

 

“He could be,” Heidi says, her voice weary. She lets go of his hand and climbs to her feet. “I thought I’d make some breakfast but I don’t know when everyone’s going to be up, so…”

 

“I could make cinnamon buns?” Lucas offers. “I mean, I’d have to go get some ingredients, but… I like baking.”

 

Heidi looks a little surprised at that. “You like baking?”

 

Lucas nods. “Yeah.”

 

“Cinnamon buns aren’t the worst idea,” Heidi muses. “You want me to come to the store with you?”

 

Lucas nods. “Okay.” 


	88. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinnamon buns for breakfast.

Seamus comes down to the kitchen and notes that something smells delicious. He walks in and there’s Heidi Hansen, in all her beautiful blonde glory, frosting a plate of cinnamon buns. He can’t help but smile.

 

She really is a remarkably beautiful woman. Strong. Tenacious.

 

 _And right now, grieving the loss of her son,_ Seamus reminds himself. _So keep it in your pants._

 

“Smells good,” says Seamus. “Looks good, too.”

 

“Lucas’s idea,” says Heidi with a small smile. “He did most of the hard work, too. I’m just doing the finishing touches while he showers. He’s covered in flour.”

 

“Lucas? Wouldn’t have picked that.”

 

“Apparently he stress bakes,” Heidi says, taking 2 mugs out of a drawer and pouring 2 cups of coffee. She hands one to Seamus and continues. “Told me a story about how he found out Donna was his monitor, went to visit Connor and practically took over his apartment with cakes and brownies.”

 

“I’m sure Connor appreciated that,” says Seamus with a smile. “Although the one who’d have really loved it would be Gus - he’s got a sweet tooth like nobody’s business.”

 

“Gus seems like a sweet kid,” Heidi says, her voice careful. “I am… I’m sorry. Evan shouldn’t… he shouldn’t have done what he did and… I am sorry.” Her face contorts with grief for a horrifying moment, then she seems to pull herself together. “And so is he. He… he said so in the note he left for me. He’s sorry about a lot of things.”

 

“Doesn’t mean he deserved to die,” Seamus replies, his voice soft. “And I… I’m sorry I was hard on him. I… I approached him after Gus was taken and I was… I was out of my mind with worry about Gus and I was out of line and I should have… I should have seen he was looking at this as a suicide mission.”

 

“There’s just…” Heidi takes a deep breath, blinks a few times then continues. “There’s all this stuff he went through that I didn’t even know about. All this stress and confusion and heartbreak and worry. I’m his mother. I’m supposed to protect him but I didn’t… I didn’t even know, and I should have. I should have known that something was wrong. I suspected he wasn’t doing too well but I didn’t know it would be… I didn’t know this would happen and I feel like a complete failure.”

 

Seamus’s heart goes out to this woman. He knows what it feels like to fail to protect your kids. “I never got a chance to be a dad to Connor and Gus,” he says simply. “I didn’t… I didn’t really explain to you just how that all worked out. Connor and Gus’s mother was just supposed to be a surrogate for DYAD, but she noticed something was strange and I was with an organization that helped her escape them. Then we fell in love and… the plan was for the two of us to raise the twins together. Be a proper family. But DYAD caught up with us, Connor was taken, Anthea was killed and I put Gus in a monastery in Ukraine for safety. And then…” Seamus hates explaining this. “He was taken by religious extremists and trained to kill his clones. Gus has… Gus has killed people. My son has killed people.”

 

Heidi’s eyes are wide and disbelieving. “Gus? _Gus_ has killed people?”

 

“He’s killed clones,” Seamus says quietly. “He was taught they were demons. That killing them would help him get closer to God. He… it took some time for him to come to terms with what he did. When he realized he’d been lied to, he had… I nearly lost him. He tried to kill himself and if it weren’t for his abilities, he’d have succeeded.” Seamus looks at Heidi, whose eyes are starting to well up. “So I know a little bit about feeling like I failed my kid. I did something that was supposed to keep him safe and it made him a killer. I have to live with that knowledge every day. And so does he.”

 

“These DYAD assholes are a real mess, aren’t they?” Heidi says, laughing a little and wiping her face. “Jesus. That’s… they’ve all been through so much.”

 

Seamus nods. “They have.”

 

“Thank you for telling me,” Heidi says quietly. She has kind eyes, Seamus notes. “That’s… that can’t have been easy for you.”

 

“I just wanted you to know you’re not alone,” says Seamus simply. “This is… well, it’s a fucked up situation but you’re not alone.”

 

“Gus is going to be okay, right?” Heidi asks. “I… I think Evan would want him to be. I know Evan would want him to be.” She kind of shudders for a moment and crumples in on herself. “Oh my god, _Evan_.”

 

Seamus puts down his coffee cup and pulls Heidi into a hug. She sobs into his shirt for a long time.

 

* * *

 

It’s just after midday when everyone assembles in the lobby for coffee and cinnamon buns. Reed and Seamus help Gus and Connor down the stairs, as both twins aren’t quite recovered yet, and Gus eats nearly half a tray of cinnamon buns in about a minute, licking the icing off his fingers and almost purring with contentment at the sugar.

 

Lucas just smiles a little and says he came prepared and brings out another tray of cinnamon rolls, much to Gus’s delight. Torpedo notes that Connor’s not eating, he’s just staring at his cup of coffee on the sofa next to Gus.

 

Torpedo takes the armchair nearest to Connor, reaches out and gives Connor’s shoulder an awkward pat. “We got you,” he says simply. “It’s gonna be okay.”

 

Connor doesn’t look at him.

 

Heidi looks exhausted and sits down on the other sofa, Zoe at her side. Since waking up, Zoe’s basically clung to Heidi, which Torpedo finds kind of interesting. He vaguely remembers that Zoe and Evan have been good friends since Connor “died” and assumes that Zoe probably knows Evan’s mom pretty well. And given that _her_ mom just died…

 

“What happens next?” Reed asks suddenly. “I’ve been keeping up with all the information coming out about DYAD. It’s… it’s a lot. Aside from Yorick’s photo, though, there’s… not really a lot about us. About the clones.”

 

“DYAD’s done a lot of bullshit,” says Torpedo. He’s had this conversation with Beanpole at length. “It’s not like we can completely hide the fact that they’ve been illegally cloning human beings but the key to all of this is that the information that’s being brought to light? The ESM is controlling the story. Of course, it’s going to draw attention to us. Of course, it’s going to make things… a little weird for a while. But the ESM are doing their best to keep us all safe. So we can, I don’t know, avoid being kidnapped and experimented on as much as possible? It’s… it’s going to be weird for a while. We don’t know what’s going to happen. Not exactly.”

 

Reed kind of nods and goes back to their coffee. No one seems to really want to press the topic, which Torpedo is kind of grateful for.

 

Everyone’s just tired and sad.

 

Torpedo’s phone rings and he goes into the kitchen to answer it. “Hello?”

 

“Torpedo. Just checking in. It’s Beanpole.”

 

“Oh. Hey.”

 

Beanpole sounds very, very tired. “I’ve been following up with the labs all over the world and… we’ve done it. We’ve done what we needed to. And with minimal casualties as well, which is… which is good.”

 

Torpedo doesn’t want to think about Evan right now, so he just nods, then realizes Beanpole can’t see him. “Good. Okay.”

 

“How’s Gus?”

 

Torpedo sighs. “He’s… he seems okay? He’s recovering. So’s Connor. They’re both… they both been through hell with DYAD.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” says Beanpole, his voice genuinely sympathetic. “I am so, so, sorry. How’s Evan recovering? I heard it was touch and go there for a while.”

 

Torpedo’s heart stops in his tracks.

 

“Evan didn't get out of DYAD before it blew up,” Torpedo says slowly.

 

There’s silence on the other end of the line, then Beanpole swears loudly. “Shit. Shit, they didn’t… those useless bastards, oh my god… ESM got him out _before_ the building blew up, Torpedo. He was in pretty bad shape and they nearly lost him a couple of times, they tell me, but he’s… he got out of DYAD.”

 

“He got out of DYAD?” Torpedo says, feeling something a little bit like hope welling up inside him. “Where is he? Where did they take him?”

 

“I don’t know,” Beanpole says, his tone annoyed. “I’m going to call them now. I didn’t… I thought you knew, Jesus Christ.” He kind of laughs. “Fuck. Fuck, this has all been a nightmare, you must have… shit.”

 

“But he’s okay?” Torpedo asks, frowning. “You said touch and go, you… he’s okay?”

 

Beanpole’s quiet for a moment. “He’s in pretty bad shape. I’m not going to lie. He still might… he still might not make it.”

 

“But you think he’s alive right now?”

 

“Yes. Last I heard, he’s still alive.”

 

* * *

 

Torpedo’s white as a sheet when he comes running back into the lobby and everyone turns to look at him. “Beanpole just told me that Evan got out of DYAD,” he blurts out. “The ESM got him out. He’s not in great shape but last Beanpole heard, he’s alive.”

 

Heidi bursts into tears. “Oh, thank god.”

 

Seamus looks over at the twins. Gus’s eyes are wide but he’s smiling and Connor’s face is just pure shock. “Is he okay?” Connor asks urgently. “Is he going to be okay?”

 

“They’re going to call me and let me know,” Torpedo says, his voice shaky. “He… they nearly lost him a couple of times. It’s not… nothing’s guaranteed.”

 

“But he’s alive,” Heidi says firmly. “I want to see him.”

 

“I’m not sure where-” Torpedo’s phone rings and he answers immediately. “Hello? Yes. Okay. Wait, you’re what? Okay. Okay, I’ll send you an address. Okay.” He stares at Seamus and Heidi, clearly a little confused. “They’ve been treating him out of an old ambulance since they got out,” he says, frowning a little. “It’s… not exactly high tech. They don’t want to take him to the hospital in case there are still people from DYAD looking for him but they’ve offered to bring him here. That’s… that’s okay, right?”

 

“Yes,” Heidi says immediately, and Seamus nods. “Send them the address.”

 

“Awful lot of people know where this safehouse is,” Lucas mutters quietly, pulling apart his cinnamon bun as Torpedo sends a text message at a speed that truly blows Seamus’s mind.

 

“If DYAD come here,” Gus says, his voice dark, “I rip out throats before I let them hurt anyone.”

 

Pampushka barks and growls as if in agreement.

 

“They’ve been treating him out of an old ambulance,” says Heidi, clearly going into nurse’s aid mode. “Okay. So there’ll be some equipment. Reed, can you help me set him up a room?”

 

“Getting up him up the stairs could be a problem if he’s really in that bad shape,” Seamus points out.

 

“We can put him in the service elevator,” says Donna.

 

Everyone looks at her. “There’s a service elevator?” Connor asks. “You mean I’ve been navigating stairs for the last few days when I could have been taking the service elevator?”

 

Donna looks around like every single other person in the room is terribly, terribly stupid.

 

“I’ll go help set up a room with Reed,” says Hannah quietly. “What are you going to need?”

 

Heidi laughs a little, completely without humor. “I don’t know. I don’t know what kind of shape he’s going to be in…”

 

She bursts into tears again, and Zoe walks over to her and puts her arms around her waist. “It’s going to be okay,” Zoe says softly. “He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be fine.”

 

Heidi just nods and sobs more, then wipes her face and smiles. “Sorry. Right. Okay. Will he be here soon?”

 

Torpedo nods. “They’re on their way.”

 

* * *

 

Connor doesn’t know what to do with himself.

 

His brain is a complete nightmare right now.

 

Evan sold his brother out to DYAD.

 

Evan jumped in front of a bullet to save his brother.

 

Evan left Connor a suicide note and had no intention of walking out of DYAD alive.

 

Evan didn’t walk out of DYAD alive, but someone carried him out.

 

Evan’s going to be here any minute, in god knows what kind of shape, and Connor doesn’t know what to do.

 

He doesn’t know what to feel.

 

He doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Hey,” says Zoe, sitting next to him quietly. “So. Not dead.”

 

“Not dead,” Connor repeats.

 

“He…” Zoe trails off. “He fucked up. He really fucked up and it… it got Mom killed.”

 

Connor jolts a little at that. “That wasn’t… he didn’t do that.”

 

“He helped get you out and that pissed that Dominic guy off enough to put a hit out on our mother,” Zoe says, her voice dark.

 

“I think…” Connor takes a deep breath and considers for a moment if he should finish this sentence. He wants to be honest with his sister, but she’s going to hate him. She’s going to hate him more than she already does. “Mom dying was my fault, Zo. Dominic just… really fucking hated me, I have no idea why. I think it’s because I’m immune from the clone illness. He really fucking hated me and… he killed Mom in retaliation. It’s my fault. Not Evan’s. Mine.” Connor snorts. “It might be Dad’s fault, a little bit. Who the fuck knows what he’s been up to with DYAD for the past… what, at least 21 years? Fuck.”

 

“I called the house,” Zoe says quietly. “Then I called the next door neighbors - I met them once, they’re awful. Apparently, no one’s seen Dad in days. I don’t…” She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I don’t know what’s happened or where he is. We need to… we need to talk to him. Figure out what’s happening. If Mom’s having a funeral or…”

 

Connor, very hesitantly, reaches his hand out and puts it on his sister’s shoulder. She doesn’t immediately tell him to fuck off. “I’m so sorry, Zoe,” he says quietly. “This is all… you were never supposed to be a part of this. I… I honestly, honestly thought you’d all be better off without me.”

 

Zoe’s eyes flash with anger at that. “That wasn’t your decision to make, asshole.”

 

Connor nods. “I know. I was seventeen and an idiot and it all just… fuck. I’m sorry? I’m… I’m just… really sorry. For fucking everything.”

 

Zoe still looks angry. Really, really fucking angry.

 

Connor can’t really fucking blame her.

 

He’s angry, too.

 

He’s angry that he lost three and a half years with his family. He’s angry that his brother was tortured. He’s angry he was tortured. He’s angry his mom was murdered. He’s angry his boyfriend betrayed him. He’s angry that he had to read Evan’s suicide note and mourn him and now he’s not dead but he could still die and he doesn’t seem to want to fucking be alive right now.

 

He’s so, so, so fucking angry.

 

“Mom told me you were adopted on your birthday this year,” Zoe says suddenly. “She never told you, did she.”

 

“No,” Connor says. “The whole, uh, clone thing made it kind of clear I wasn’t biologically theirs and then I found out about Gus and… yeah.”

 

“So basically we’re nothing to each other,” Zoe says, her voice flat.

 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Connor replies, trying to keep his voice even.

 

“People used to say we looked alike,” says Zoe, kind of laughing. “It’s so fucked up.”

 

“People say shit like that all the time, though,” Connor points out. “Like, fucking newborns. People go “oh, he looks like his dad!” even though the baby’s like, a pink shriveled raisin. People… people say some really dumb shit, Zo.”

 

There’s a knock on the door, and Seamus, Heidi and Torpedo rush to answer it.

 

Connor wants to rush over, too.

 

But he doesn’t think he can cope with seeing Evan right now.

 

Not all beaten up.

 

Not when he knows that Evan didn’t want to survive.

 

Instead, he smiles at his sister, squeezes her shoulder then heads up the stairs to his room as fast as he can manage.

 


	89. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chinese food for dinner.

Reed helps Heidi and the two women from EMS wheel Evan on a stretcher through the lobby and into the service elevator, their heart clenching painfully at the sight of their friend, bruised and bloody and pale as a corpse.

 

 _Not a corpse_ , they remind themself, focusing on Evan’s chest moving. _Not a corpse._

 

Heidi looks like she could faint any minute but is asking all sorts of questions that go completely over Reed’s head, and they dimly remember that she’s worked as a CNA for a very long time. She’s probably picked up some things about medicine throughout. One of the women, with dark skin and long multi-colored braids, is patiently answering questions, then adding her own information, and it dawns on Reed that this woman is probably a doctor.

 

They take Evan out of the elevator and into the room Hannah and Reed prepared, and Reed sees Connor disappear into a room out of the corner of their eye. Then they see Gus, standing at the top of the stairs, face tight with grief.

 

He watches as they take Evan into the room, and Reed sees him head into the room Connor’s in.

 

The woman who’s probably a doctor, it turns out, is named Christina, and the other woman, Melody, heads out of the room and presumably back downstairs. Heidi and Christina get Evan sorted. He’s not moving at all, aside from the gentle movement of his chest up and down, and it’s freaking Reed out. A few moments later, Melody returns with a pile of equipment, along with a Korean guy with a blue mohawk and a septum piercing who kind of winks at Reed and Reed does not have time for a cute punk guy right now, their friend might still be dying.

 

Their friend, who they thought was dead, might be dying.

 

The equipment is old, Christina explains, but it will do the trick, and Melody sends Chiv (cute blue mohawk septum piercing guy) to find some extension cables so they can plug everything in. Heidi is holding herself together better than anyone has any right to expect her to right now, and Reed’s filled with a rush of admiration of her.

 

Evan’s mom is made of tough stuff. Here’s hoping Evan’s the same.

 

Soon everything’s set up, and Christina explains to Heidi, her voice calm but serious, that Evan lost a lot of blood but they managed to do a transfusion, and that his heartbeat is still erratic and he hasn’t regained consciousness since they found him. The gunshot wound in his stomach has been stitched up and very narrowly missed any vital organs.

 

He’s not in a coma, but he’s not far off.

 

Heidi wants to spend some time alone with Evan, so the rest of them file out quietly and head down to the lobby. “Were you there when DYAD blew up?” Reed asks Chiv quietly, and he nodded, his expression grim.

 

“Minimal casualties,” he says in a strong southern accent, which isn’t quite what Reed was expecting. “I found Evan when I was getting out of the building. He was… well, I didn’t think he was alive but I got the faintest pulse and dragged him out.”

 

“Thank you,” Reed says seriously. “Just… thank you.”

 

Chiv smiles a little. “Friend of yours?” Reed just nods. Chiv nods back, kind of scratching his eyebrow. “Gotta admit, kinda weird seeing Charles’s face all punked out.”

 

“Charles?” Reed asks, frowning a little.

 

“Oh, you guys call him Beanpole,” Chiv says, as though remembering. He grins. He’s got a nice smile. “It’s so funny. He keeps complaining that it makes no sense since y’all are the same height.”

 

“That’s fair,” Reed replies. They noticed that Chiv is like, nearly a foot shorter than them. It’s… kind of adorable. Chiv laughs. Reed raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

 

Chiv grins. “This is super bad timing, but I kind of want to ask you if you’re single.”

 

Reed snorts. “Oh, it’s super bad timing. I am, though.”

 

Chiv grins even wider. “Cool. That’s cool. Do you want to, uh, grab a drink some time?”

 

Reed can’t help it. They burst out laughing. Loud, kind of manic laughter that quickly turns into them sobbing on this poor guy’s shoulder. Chiv, to his credit, doesn’t look that alarmed. He just looks like he gets it.

 

“Sorry,” Reed apologizes profusely. “Just… an emotional couple of days.”

 

Chiv nods. “I, uh, we didn’t know who to call? About Evan? We didn’t… we knew it was him from his DYAD badge but… we were more focused on getting him out of danger, getting him stable. I’m really sorry you guys had to… shit. You all thought he was dead and that’s… that’s bullshit, I’m so sorry.”

 

Reed shakes their head. “It’s not your fault, it’s this whole shitty situation.” They take in a shaky breath then let it out. “Fuck, I would kill for some weed right now.”

 

Chiv’s eyes brighten. “I’ve got some in my truck.”

 

Reed looks at him for a long moment. “If you’re offering, I’m in.”

 

* * *

 

Connor sits on the bed, curled up in a ball, and does not look at Gus. Does not look at anything. He does not move, he does not scream, he does not cry. He just sits.

 

Gus thinks it would be better if he screams or cries.

 

Gus thinks that Connor is very numb. This is something Gus can understand.

 

Pampushka climbs onto the bed and sits next to Connor, and Gus sits next to Pampushka, and they sit and are still for some time.

 

Gus is the first to speak. He is careful with his words, as he does not know how Connor will react. He thinks Connor is gunpowder right now, and one must always be careful with gunpowder.

 

This is something he learns when he is very small. He is taught to use gunpowder, but does not learn quick and receives many burns from small explosion.

 

He does not wish for small explosion now, but if it happens, he knows he is strong and can survive.

 

“Heidi is very nice woman,” he says quietly. “I am glad for her that her son is safe. I will pray that he will survive.”

 

Connor does not move, and Gus does not push. Pampushka nuzzles at Connor’s leg for a while, and he lifts his head. Connor’s eyes are very red and his face is wet.

 

“I’m glad he’s alive,” Connor says, his voice shaky. “But I… I can’t see him. Not right now. Not while I’m still so mad.”

 

Gus nods. “It is okay. He is still resting. He must rest to mend his broken body. Then, I think, the journey will begin to mend broken spirit. I think it will be long.” Gus looks at Connor, then gently takes his hand. “I think you also have journey to mend broken spirit.”

 

Connor squeezes Gus’s hand. “Yeah.”

 

“Both of you have journeys,” Gus says, his voice hesitant. He does not know if what he is about to say is helpful or will just cause pain. “You will have your journeys apart or you will have your journeys together. It will… it will not change the journeys. It is for you to decide what is best.”

 

“I love him,” Connor confesses. “This would all be a fuckton easier if I didn’t.”

 

Gus nods. “Yes. Love is sometimes weakness. But it is also strength. Love is most confusing.” He squeezes Connor’s hand. “You will have a journey, no matter what you choose. But I will be your brother and will be here, no matter what you choose.”

 

“You shouldn’t forgive Evan for what he made you do,” Connor says, his voice heated. “You shouldn’t… you just shouldn’t.”

 

“There is no ‘should’ in forgiveness,” Gus says. This is something he has often thought of. “Forgiveness is not earned. It is given even when it is not deserved. No one should forgive the things I have done, Connor, but many do.”

 

Connor starts to cry, and Pampushka moves a little so that Gus can give him a hug. Connor cries for a long time, and Gus holds him tight, saying prayers for strength under his breath in Ukrainian.

 

Gus is glad to not be alone anymore.

 

“I’m so tired,” says Connor, and his voice is also tired. Gus understands this.

 

“We can have nap,” Gus offers, and Connor nods. It is not long until they are asleep.

 

* * *

 

The afternoon passes by in a haze. Donna’s brought along a bunch of board games, which Torpedo appreciates a lot more now than he did back at the lake house for the clone party, because now he feels like he’s got more presence to mind to actually play them, not to mention he’s definitely needing the distraction. He starts a game of Settlers of Catan with Zoe, Hannah and Seamus while Lucas and Donna play Connect Four. Melody and Christina have gone upstairs to check on Evan and Heidi, Reed’s disappeared with Chiv to goodness knows where and Connor and Gus were napping last time anyone checked.

 

After a few games, Connor and Gus reemerge, Connor looking tired and drained, Pampushka at their side. They position themselves on the sofa with barely any space between them and Torpedo spots Zoe looking at them and frowning every now and then.

 

Connor’s talked a lot about his relationship with his sister to Torpedo. He knows they used to be close as kids but their relationship deteriorated rapidly in their teens. He remembers what Connor was like when they first met - angry, closed-off and frankly, a huge pain in the ass. Back then, he’d had never expected to see Connor willingly relax around another person the way he does with Gus. The way he does with all his clones, in fact.

 

Connor’s not the same person he was when Torpedo met him three and a half years ago.

 

Connor’s not the same person he was when Zoe last saw him three and a half years.

 

Zoe is trying not to stare, Torpedo can tell, but she also can’t seem to help herself. He thinks it must be hard to see Connor with a sibling he’s so close to, after all these years. It probably feels like being replaced.

 

Torpedo doesn’t know the right way to tell Zoe how much Connor missed her.

 

There might not be a right way.

 

His phone buzzes, and he sees a message from his mom. “Hey guys,” he says to the room, trying to get everyone’s attention. “My mom just landed with Beanpole, they’re heading here but they said they’d pick up Chinese food on the way. Any requests? We’ll make sure there’s something with no pork for Hannah and something vegan for Reed, but other than that does anyone want anything in particular?”

 

“Many wontons,” Gus says immediately. “I like the wontons very much.”

 

“Something with black bean sauce is always good,” Donna says. “But I’m not fussy.”

 

“Where _is_ Reed?” Connor asks.

 

Seamus clears his throat. “They’re, uh, smoking with that Chiv fellow.”

 

“Who’s Chiv?” Connor asks, even more confused.

 

“He’s ESM,” Torpedo explains. “Blue hair in a mohawk.”

 

“Oh,” Connor says, in a tone that suggests that that explains everything. “Dammit Reed, now is not the time for a booty buddy.”

 

Hannah kind of snorts. “Booty buddy?”

 

Zoe barks out a laugh.

 

“Wait, what are they smoking?” Torpedo asks, with interest. He could totally do with some weed right now.

 

Seamus just raises an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

 

“Oh my god,” Zoe says with a roll of her eyes. “They’re all stoners. Oh my fucking god.”

 

“Hey!” Lucas says with a frown. “I rarely touch the stuff.”

 

“We’ve only got Lucas stoned once,” Torpedo says reasonably. “To be fair, there were extenuating circumstances.”

 

“Wait, when did you get Lucas stoned?” asks Donna with interest.

 

Connor and Torpedo exchange a look and both crack up laughing. “Oh my god,” says Connor. “Senior year of high school. Donna, do you remember Lucas yelling at his dad about soccer?”

 

Donna looks a little perplexed. “Pretty vividly, yeah.”

 

Connor smirks. “It wasn’t Lucas, it was me.”

 

Donna blinks, then bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, that makes so much sense. Oh my god.”

 

“So you go around impersonating your clones all the time, then,” says Zoe, tone a little irritated. “Good to know.”

 

“Not all the time,” Connor says, still smiling. “Just when they’re drunk and stoned out of their minds and are supposed to be at a family dinner. You’re welcome, by the way. I totally saved your ass that night.”

 

“You yelled at my dad and kissed my girlfriend,” Lucas says, frowning deeply. “I fail to see why I should thank you for this.”

 

Donna snaps her fingers. “ _That’s_ why that kiss was so weird. Connor, you have _no_ idea how to kiss a woman, oh my god.”

 

“You wound me,” says Connor sarcastically. “How will I ever seduce you away from Lucas now?”

 

“We will always have a forbidden love,” says Donna, equally sarcastic, and Gus looks at both of them in absolute confusion.

 

“Is kissing a woman really that different from kissing a man?” says Reed, who Torpedo hadn’t even realized had come in, Chiv close behind. Chiv kind of awkwardly waves at the group and turns a little pink and Torpedo takes a guess as to what the two have been doing aside from smoking.

 

“Not really,” Zoe says with a wicked smirk, and Hannah playfully whacks her on the arm.

 

“Oh hey, pan and bi solidarity!” Reed exclaims, reaching out a hand for Zoe to high five. “Up top!” Zoe graciously returns the high five, giggling a little, and Connor visibly relaxes as Gus starts laughing as well.

 

It’s not really funny, but everyone’s so fucking tired and exhausted that maybe they just need a dumb conversation to break up the sheer amount of angst they’ve had to deal with.

 

It seems to clear the air a little, and as people break off into groups to play more board games or just watch stupid YouTube videos on Torpedo’s laptop, the atmosphere in the lobby is more positive than it’s been in days.

 

Half an hour later, Torpedo’s mom comes in, followed by Beanpole. They’re both carrying bags and bags and bags of Chinese food. Hannah goes upstairs to grab Heidi, Christina and Melody while Donna finds plates and cutlery, and Jenny and Beanpole set up a sort of buffet of Chinese food on a table for people to help themselves to.

 

Heidi and Hannah come down, Heidi saying that Christina and Melody are staying with Evan as they insisted she eat, but to save something for them. As everyone starts grabbing food, Torpedo takes a moment to introduce his mom to Heidi.

 

“Mom, this is Heidi. Heidi, this is my mother, Jenny.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Heidi says warmly, her eyes tired. She reaches out a hand to shake but Jenny just pulls her into a hug and Torpedo can see Heidi’s tearing up a little.

 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” says Jenny, her tone equally warm. She smiles a little sadly. “This is rough, huh.”

 

“Yeah,” says Heidi, looking immensely grateful to have yet another parent around.

 

Torpedo thinks it must be hard for them. Seamus has been around for a few years and has always known, but Heidi and Jenny had had no idea until they’d been dropped right into the middle of this.

 

Torpedo’s just glad he’s not dying anymore.

 

He couldn’t bear seeing his mom look as sad as Heidi Hansen right now.

 

Everyone piles onto the couches, plates in laps, and Connor looks around the room and laughs out loud for a moment. Everyone looks at him and he turns a little pink. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s just… there are six of us here. Six of us poor bastards with this face. This is the most clones I’ve ever seen in one place. It’s so freaky.”

 

Reed snorts. “We should start a band.”

 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You’re high, Reed.”

 

“No, I’m serious!” Reed says, warming up to their topic. “It’d be great. Connor, you can play guitar-”

 

“I can’t play guitar.”

 

“You can learn. It can’t be that hard.”

 

Connor looks at Zoe, who rolls her eyes. “I’m not teaching you.”

 

“Hannah can teach me drums,” Reed continues. Hannah just blushes, shrugs and eats a wonton. “Torpedo on keys. Lucas on bass.” They look at Gus. “Gus, what do you want to play?”

 

“I like to sing,” says Gus enthusiastically. “But I do not think I have much tune.”

 

“You’re not wrong,” Donna mutters.

 

“Okay Beanpole, what have we got for you?” Reed asks, looking at the British clone with interest.

 

Zoe blinks. “Wait, this one’s name is Beanpole?”

 

Beanpole clears his throat. “Or Charles, if you prefer. These days I answer to either, really.”

 

Zoe’s eyes widen. “Whoa. British Connor. That’s so fucking weird.”

 

“Can you hold a tune?” Reed asks, ignoring Zoe completely. “Sing us something, Beanpole!”

 

Torpedo snorts. “Reed, you’re _so_ high.”

 

“I played the French horn at school,” Beanpole says, trying and failing to pick up some noodles with his chopsticks.

 

“What kind of rock band has a French horn in it?” Lucas asks.

 

Gus frowns. “What makes the horn French?”

 

Connor cracks up laughing, which sets of Reed, and soon the entire room has erupted into giggles. It’s all starting to feel like things are okay again when Melody appears at the top of the stairs.

 

“Heidi,” she calls out. “Evan’s awake.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	90. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee in Central Park.

Having spent most of high school wanting to die or just disappear, Connor’s never really cared about schoolwork or grades or exams before being Ben. Despite the fact that he’s already been accepted into NYU, there are still finals to prepare for and the paper and tutoring. He’s busy, all of a sudden, and it’s got nothing to do with clones or conspiracies. He’s just… he’s just busy. 

 

Connor doesn’t completely hate it. 

 

Bit by bit, Connor pieces together what his clones are planning for after high school. Lucas is off to study business, which isn’t a huge surprise, and Reed’s studying genetics at a university in Boston. Torpedo’s not going to college. Instead, he’s been offered a job doing some kind of computer nerdery from home, which will mean he never has to leave his basement, which Connor and Reed both have mixed feelings about. 

 

“On one hand,” Reed says on the other end of the Skype call, painting their toenails something sparkly and green, “it’s his life and he can do what he wants with it. On the other hand… dude really needs to get outside more.”

 

“Torpedo’s just gonna do whatever Torpedo wants to do,” Connor points out. It’s Friday night, so he’s painting his fingernails black for the weekend while he and Reed chat. “I guess we’re just going to have to, like, drag him outside every now and then.”

 

Reed snorts. “Sure. The two of us will head down and take him out for pizza. Watch that guy at the pizzeria’s head explode.”

 

“Sounds like a health code violation,” says Connor with a smirk. 

 

Reed cracks up laughing. “Someone call the FDA.” They’re wearing a soft looking cardigan, and Connor idly thinks to himself that Gus would approve. Connor had received an email from him just the other day that made barely any sense but seemed to mostly concern the fact that he had found the fluffiest socks and thought they were the best thing in the entire fucking universe. 

 

Connor smiles at the memory. Weirdly, he misses Gus. They email back and forth a lot and while Gus’s English is improving, his messages are still short and stream-of-consciousness-y. Connor likes them. He tries to keep his replies short and easy to understand for Gus’s sake but Gus always eagerly responds, asking questions and providing insights into his new life with Seamus. 

 

While Connor hasn’t heard much from Seamus, they’ve had some conversations that have led Connor to believe that while Gus is settling in, there’s a long way to go. Seamus said something about Gus freaking out over having too many pillows and that there have been plenty of nights where Gus wakes up screaming in the night, but that his dog seems to have a sixth sense about Gus’s mental health. 

 

Connor read an article that said that animals can be really helpful for people with post-traumatic stress disorder. He’s grateful Gus has Pampushka.

 

Connor doesn’t actually know exactly where they are. Seamus has been in touch about the possibility of Connor spending some time with them during the summer, so he imagines he’ll eventually find out where they are. He’s gathered from Gus’s comments that they’re somewhere midwest. 

 

He hopes to get there after graduation. Spend some time with his family. 

 

Well, a part of his family. The concept of family has gotten a lot more complicated these days.

 

“College is gonna be interesting,” Connor says, concentrating on painting his nails with his non-dominant hand. He’s getting better at this, he thinks. “I don’t even know what to expect.”

 

“It’s New York,” Reed says, kind of smiling. “You can go hang out with beatniks or something. Get really into slam poetry. Smoke a lot of clove cigarettes. Talk about nihilism.”

 

“Not really into nihilism these days,” Connor says thoughtfully. “I’ve actually been reading a lot of Camus. I’m thinking that absurdism is the way to go.”

 

Reed just looks at him for a moment then cracks up laughing. “Oh my god. You’re so ready for college.”

 

“I’m serious,” says Connor, rolling his eyes at his clone. “Absurdism is the good shit. Like, we all want to find the meaning of life or whatever but we can’t because life is just… fucking weird. So absurdism is, like… the contradiction. Camus is all like… okay, accept that everything is fucking weird but just… go for it. Live your life and try to find meaning anyway.” 

 

“I’ve read The Outsider,” Reed says, a little thoughtfully. “That’s… I don’t know, I liked it, but it made me sad.”

 

Connor’s read The Outsider, too. He read it about 2 years ago, and it’s one of the books he’s purchased from Amazon to restock his bookshelf. He remembers reading it and feeling weirdly jealous of Meursault. Meursault just didn’t give a fuck. He was completely indifferent to everything. He just… didn’t care. Didn’t feel. 

 

Connor’s always felt too much. 

 

The book is on his bookshelf, and he very carefully takes it out, trying not to smudge his nails. He flicks through and finds a section he’d highlighted. “Okay, so I really liked this bit: ‘ In that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world.’” Connor shrugs as Reed looks at them, their eyes wide and sympathetic. “I don’t know, I just… thought it was pretty.”

 

Reed nods. “The gentle indifference of the world. That’s… that’s something, you know?” They kind of look at Connor, and it’s a look Connor’s seen on their face a number of times now. It’s kind of like being seen through. It’s this look of empathy and understanding and it’s the way Reed’s always looked at him. Looked at all of them, really. 

 

Reed’s got a big heart. Big enough to deal with Connor’s mess. 

 

Connor appreciates it more than he can say. 

 

“The world might be gently indifferent,” Reed says after a moment. “But we’re not, you know? Me, you, Torpedo, Lucas. We’re not indifferent when it comes to each other and I think that’s important.” They shrug. 

 

Connor finds himself chuckling a little. “Fuck, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

 

“Oh, I can believe we’re having this conversation,” Reed replies with a grin. “I just can’t believe we’re not stoned for it.” They smile. “We’ll have to make sure we hang out more in person once we’re both in college. It should be easier, not living at home.”

 

Connor nods. “I’d like that a lot.” He would, he thinks. He’s come to the realization that his clones aren’t going anywhere. They’ve seen him through a lot of shit and they’re all probably going to have to deal with more at some stage, and they’re all… still around. 

 

It’s weird. It’s a weird feeling. But Connor likes not feeling alone. 

 

On Saturday, Connor gets a text from Peter, asking if he feels like grabbing a coffee. Connor doesn’t see why not, so heads into Manhattan and meets Peter at a cafe. The city’s bustling, full of people, and Connor feels like one in a million, rather than… one of however many clones there are, it’s so fucking weird. 

 

“Hey,” Peter greets him. It’s that weird time of year where the weather can’t decide what the fuck it wants to do, and today it’s kind of cold. Peter’s cheeks are bright red and Connor finds it weirdly endearing. 

 

“Hey,” Connor replies with a smile. “How’s your weekend?”

 

“I just needed a break from studying,” says Peter as they head to order coffee. 

 

“Fair enough,” says Connor. 

 

They agree to take their coffees to go and just kind of stroll around for a bit. As Connor holds his coffee cup with both hands, Peter kind of looks at his hands and Connor realizes he’s still wearing nail polish. Shit. 

 

“I like your nails,” says Peter before Connor can make any kind of excuse. “It’s… it’s a good look.”

 

“You think?” Connor says, a little taken aback. “I mean, I just… I don’t know, I like it, so I just kind of… on weekends. You know, because… dress code and shit.”

 

Peter nods. “Well, not long ‘til we can say goodbye to the dress code,” he points out. “Looking forward to college?”

 

Connor smiles. “Yeah. I think I am.”

 

It’s kind of a cliche, but they end up heading to Central Park. They’re walking around, just kind of chatting about school and college when all of a sudden Peter glances up and goes a little pale. Connor follows his gaze and inwardly groans. 

 

Jesus fuck, not another one. 

 

There’s a clone heading straight toward him. He’s got long hair, longer than Connor’s was before he started being Ben, and it’s in those absolutely terrible white boy dreads, and Connor hates this one already. He’s accompanied by a couple who are probably his parents and they are all literally heading straight for them, holding a map and looking every inch the tourist. 

 

“Excuse me,” says the woman, her voice loud but kind of melodic. “You boys wouldn’t be able to help us get our bearings, would you? We’re visiting.”

 

Connor’s standing face to face with this clone and his parents and it’s super, super weird. 

 

What’s even weirder is that, aside from Peter, no one seems to be even slightly taken aback by the fact that Connor and this idiot with white boy dreads have the exact same face.

 

“Uh, sure,” says Connor, and takes a look at the map. He turns to Peter. “I think you have a better sense of direction than me.” 

 

Peter kind of jolts, then looks at the map and starts patiently giving directions to the couple. Connor turns to his clone, who is either incredibly unobservant or just hasn’t looked in a mirror for a very long time. “I’m Ben,” he says, extending a hand. 

 

The clone looks a little taken aback but shakes his hand. “Jed. You guys local?”

 

Connor nods. “Yeah. Planning on sticking around for college as well. Just got accepted into NYU.” He gestures to Peter. “So did my friend here.”

 

“That’s a good school,” says the dad, his voice approving. 

 

“It’s good to see that the education system hasn’t failed everyone,” says the mother. Her voice is a little bitter. “It’s certainly failed our Jed. It’s just completely unacceptable. Jed was failing all his classes and the teachers did nothing about it! He’s not stupid, they just can’t be teaching right.”

 

The mother starts on this diatribe about how Jed’s just misunderstood and the teachers didn’t appreciate his genius and by God, this clone’s looking more and more punchable by the minute. Jed doesn’t look embarrassed, he just looks bored. 

 

What an asshole. 

 

Peter wraps up his explanation of where to go. The mother thanks them, the father kind of nods and Jed doesn’t even bother acknowledging them. The three walk off and Peter just stares at Connor for a long moment. 

 

“That guy looked exactly like you,” Peter says finally. 

 

Connor forces a laugh. “Wow, I’m kind of insulted.”

 

Peter turns pink again. “Like, the face. Your faces were like… identical.”

 

Connor shrugs. “I guess there was like, a bit of a resemblance. Maybe in the nose. And the ears, I guess. We’ve got those kind of… weird ears.”

 

“Your ears are fine,” Peter says immediately, then turns pink again. “I’m serious, though, it was… it was super weird, right? He looked just like you.”

 

“Yeah, if someone had dropped me on my head and I suddenly decided that super racist white boy dreads were an acceptable fashion statement,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. 

 

They start walking again, Peter still looking a little troubled. They decided to grab a hot chocolate after about an hour of walking, and this time just sit in the cafe. Connor holds the mug to try to warm his hands up and Peter kind of laughs. Connor raises an eyebrow. “What?”

 

“Just thinking about that random guy and his folks,” Peter says. “I guess it’s hard because you don’t, like, look at your face all the time, but honestly, it was like I was seeing double there.”

 

“Maybe I have an evil twin,” Connor says, then immediately feels bad for saying, because Gus isn’t evil, whereas Jed’s just… a bit of a dick, apparently. 

 

“Maybe,” Peter agrees. He smiles. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

 

“Thanks for asking me to hang out,” Connor replies honestly. “It’s… it was nice.”

 

Peter turns bright red. “I, uh, I was… I was hoping that…” He looks at his hot chocolate, then looks back at Connor. “I was hoping that this could be… a date?”

 

Connor looks at him for a long moment and blinks a couple of times. “What?”

 

Peter’s ears are almost burning, he’s so red. “I just… I heard that you and Pippa aren’t actually together anymore and I know you like guys and you’re nice and we did sleep together that one time even though Janelle was there and I really like you and I just… I thought this could be… a date.”

 

Connor feels like an absolute idiot, not to mention a complete and utter asshole. “I’m so flattered,” Connor says as gently as he can. “I really am. And I like you a lot, Peter, you’re a great guy. It’s just that… after Jerome, I’m kind of… I’m just not really ready for anything more than just being friends right now.”

 

Peter still looks so fucking embarrassed and Connor feels even worse, because fucking hell it takes a lot of guts to ask someone out and getting rejected must suck and he’s about to say something when Peter speaks up. “I should have been more clear from the beginning,” he says, shrinking in on himself. “But I get it. I do get it. I like being friends with you and… fuck, it’s a dick move of me to even ask you out after the last guy you were involved with got murdered, holy shit what was I thinking?”

 

“Hey,” Connor says, gently but firmly. “No harm, no foul. You’re a great guy. And just because I’m the only other guy you know who likes guys now doesn’t mean it’s always going to be like that.” He smiles. “You’re sweet and you’re cute and you’re smart, you’ll have guys falling all over you once you start college. You’ll be beating them off with a stick.”

 

“I did do fencing for a while,” Peter says, slightly less red now and smiling at least a little. 

 

“There you go,” says Connor confidently. “It’s going to be fine.”

 

They eventually part and as Connor heads home, he thinks about Jerome. 

 

It wasn’t perfect. It was never perfect. But it was the first real romance Connor had ever experienced and… Connor’s not quite over that yet. He’s not sure if he ever will be, to be honest. 

 

He doesn’t know what the future holds yet but he knows that his life is never going to be the safest or most straightforward. 

 

He thinks that if he ever lets himself fall in love again, they’re going to have to be someone pretty amazing for him to risk his heart like that again. 

 

He’s a clone. It’s who he is. It’s never going to be easy. Or safe. 

 

Connor thinks about Camus again. 

 

_ Without beauty, love, or danger, it would be almost easy to live.  _

 

He smiles. He thinks it might be true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	91. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor learns of Larry's fate.

Evan wakes up.

 

That’s a problem.

 

Evan wakes up and can feel his heart beating in his chest.

 

It’s beating fast.

 

Faster and faster as he realizes that he failed.

 

He’s not supposed to be here.

 

He’s not supposed to be alive.

 

There’s a woman with dark skin and multi-colored dreads standing over him, and she’s saying something that Evan can’t really process because he’s too busy freaking out over the fact that he’s alive when he’s not supposed to be.

 

He’s attached to some kind of monitor and it’s beeping. A lot. There’s this continual noise, high pitched and incessant, and he tries to put his hands over his ears but he can’t really move, he can’t really feel anything. He closes his eyes as tight as he can manage and wishes very, very, very hard to not be here right now.

 

Then all of a sudden the sound of sobs fills the room and there’s his mom, and he opens his eyes to see her looking tired and exhausted and she’s sobbing and he’s just staring at her in horror as she squeezes his hand and he can’t feel anything and he very, very, very much doesn’t want to be alive right now.

 

It’s like the inside of his head is screaming right now.

 

It’s loud and it’s frightening and maybe this is hell. He doesn’t really know.

 

The inside of his head is screaming.

 

He might be screaming on the outside, too, if the look on his mother’s face is anything to go by. She looks… terrified.

 

Absolutely terrified.

 

Evan’s not supposed to be alive.

 

He’s not supposed to be alive he’s not supposed to be alive he’s not supposed to

 

He’s suddenly very, very tired, and the woman with the multi-colored braids is saying something but Evan doesn’t catch it because everything goes black, slowly and softly.

 

* * *

 

Connor’s heart is pounding as Heidi runs up the stairs the minute that Melody informs her that Evan’s awake. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know how to feel.

 

They all go back to eating, the friendly banter from earlier interrupted by the news. Gus looks at Connor with a sympathetic look on his face, feeds Pampushka some pork and then goes to say something when all of a sudden, he’s interrupted by the sound of screaming.

 

The lobby goes deadly quiet.

 

And Connor’s heart breaks again because he knows it’s Evan.

 

Pampushka nuzzles at his leg.

 

The screaming goes on for nearly a full minute, and then stops almost abruptly. They all sit in silence for a while, then Gus gets to his feet. “Pampushka needs a walk,” he says, clearly trying for a bright tone. “Connor, you will walk with us, yes?”

 

Connor, very badly, wants to say yes. He wants to get the fuck out of here and head out into the night with his twin and his dog and just… not be here.

 

But there’s something that makes him hesitate.

 

“Actually, I was hoping we could talk, Connor,” says Beanpole, his face pale but his tone even.

 

Connor nods. “Okay.” He smiles at his twin. At least, he thinks he’s smiling. He probably isn’t. He doesn’t think his face quite works now. “Another time, Gus.”

 

“We could come with you if you want,” Hannah offers, looking at Zoe. “Might be good to get out of here for a bit.”

 

Zoe looks at Connor, then at Gus, and nods. As Hannah, Zoe and Gus grab jackets to prepare for an evening walk with Pampushka, Reed offers to show Beanpole a place where he and Connor can talk in private. It’s this small room that’s full of notes and a whiteboard and a whole bunch of other shit that Connor can’t make any sense of. He thinks it’s got something to do with the cure. He thinks it must be where Hannah and Reed were working.

 

Reed leaves them to it, and Beanpole pulls out his laptop from his messenger bag. Beanpole’s an odd one, as far as Connor’s concerned. Clearly brilliant, clearly compassionate and clearly very, very driven, but he always kind of bumbles around like an absent-minded professor who’s just lost his glasses. Beanpole’s glasses are, in fact, on his face, and they’re wire-rimmed and hopelessly nerdy. In his polo shirt, jacket and khakis, he’s a slightly nerdier version of Evan at high school.

 

Evan.

 

Connor’s heart hurts.

 

“I have something I need to tell you,” says Beanpole, his tone soft and full of regret. “Larry Murphy was found dead the night we blew up DYAD.”

 

There’s a sinking, heavy feeling in Connor’s stomach and he doesn’t like it.

 

“He got caught in the blast?” Connor asks, despite knowing somehow this isn’t what happened at all.

 

Beanpole shakes his head. “He was shot. It was a clean shot, that much I can tell you. He won’t have suffered. He wouldn’t have even felt it.” He hesitates. “I… I found security footage of the moments leading up to his death. It’s up to you whether you want to view them.”

 

Connor thinks about Evan.

 

Evan and Larry, making a plan to get Connor out of DYAD at Gus’s expense.

 

It felt like Evan making a deal with the devil.

 

Larry’s always been the bad guy.

 

Connor shouldn’t watch this.

 

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that right now, if he watches it, everything is going to be worse, and he’s going to be hit with more emotion than he can deal with, and it’s all too much right now.

 

That would be the sensible thing to do.

 

But Connor’s feeling pretty fucking masochistic right now.

 

He nods.

 

“I can leave you alone to watch it if you’d like,” Beanpole says quietly, and Connor shakes his head. Beanpole pulls up a video and Connor’s breath catches.

 

It’s Dominic in what looks like a very fancy hospital bed. He looks like he’s asleep, but when Larry walks in, he opens his eyes.

 

Connor listens and watches in morbid fascination as Dominic rages in that overly posh, infuriatingly smarmy British accent about how Connor got everything.

 

He guesses that’s why Dominic hated him so much.

 

He hadn’t even known Dominic existed until a week ago. Yet there it was. Years and years of hate and jealousy.

 

Connor doesn’t know how to feel about it.

 

He listens and watches as Dominic taunts Larry about Connor, and it’s all just such a fucking mess and Connor doesn’t want to see this, he doesn’t want to think about his dad. He doesn’t know how feels about Larry.

 

His entire life, he’s been convinced Larry hated him.

 

But now he’s not so sure.

 

“Even in those moments when Connor and I were screaming at each other, when he’d come home high and get into fights in school… there was always a part of me that was grateful,” says Larry on the tiny screen. He’s staring at Dominic, his voice full of contempt. “Grateful that he wasn’t you. Because even in the moments when Connor was at his worst, he was _always_ better than you.”

 

Connor doesn’t know how to feel.

 

He just doesn’t know how to feel.

 

He watches as his father puts a pillow over Dominic’s face and holds down until Dominic stops kicking and falls still.

 

Connor can’t tell if he’s impressed, horrified or just relieved.

 

Dominic’s dead.

 

Dominic, the one truly responsible for his mother’s death, who tortured him and tried to torture Gus, is dead.

 

Larry killed him.

 

Then a dark-haired woman walks in and shoots Larry right between the eyes.

 

Connor knows it’s coming but he still jolts in shock.

 

He looks at Beanpole, whose face is very, very solemn. “I… Zoe doesn’t need to see this,” Connor says, his voice shaky. “But I need to tell her.”

 

Beanpole nods. “I thought it would be better to tell you alone,” he says simply. “I understand that Zoe’s only just found out about… all of this. And that she saw your mother die.” His face falls even more. “Connor, I’m so sorry. We didn’t foresee this. We didn’t realize that Dominic had such a personal vendetta against you and your family. We should have known. We should have protected them.”

 

“Saving me from DYAD was reckless,” Connor says slowly. “Both my dad and Evan… it was reckless.”

 

Beanpole looks at Connor, his face terrible sad. “It was. But I understand why they did what they did. They both care about you.”

 

Connor sees his father’s grief-stricken face as his mother takes her final breath in his mind.

 

He remembers the moment that he recognized his father’s voice after three and a half years of not hearing it.

 

He thinks about the arguments and getting sent to rehab and the screaming and the crying and the absolute conviction that Larry didn’t understand, that he’d never understand, that he didn’t care, that no one cared, that…

 

He remembers being angry.

 

He remembers being lost.

 

He remembers, and he feels.

 

 _Even in the moments where Connor was at his worst, he was_ always _better than you._

 

What the fuck does that even _mean?_

 

Connor stands up and shakily heads out of the room, leaving Beanpole sitting quietly in the makeshift lab space.

 

Then he heads upstairs and into Torpedo’s room.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s there until he’s rummaging through Torpedo’s bag and pulling out a bottle of pills.

 

He takes the bottle into the room he’s been sharing with Gus and sits cross-legged on the bed.

 

Fentanyl would get him super high if he took the right dose. It’d be nice to be super high for a while. Let everything fade.

 

He just doesn’t want to think.

 

He just doesn’t want to feel.

 

He sits there looking at the pills for a very long time.

 

Not long after Connor and Evan started dating, they’d stayed up all night talking about high school and the fact that technically, they’d known each other for most of their lives. Connor had always known of Evan, even when he was barely in the background. They’d talked about dumb stuff like teachers they remembered, former classmates and what they might be up to now, how much they hated the cafeteria food, that sort of thing. Connor mentioned feeling bad about a presentation Evan did in English class where he panicked and left the room. And Evan mentioned that there’d been a rumor that Connor had spent the summer between junior and senior year in rehab.

 

Connor didn’t like to think about rehab. He didn’t like to think about how sick detoxing had made him, how he’d hated being in an unfamiliar environment, how he’d thought all the stupid 12 steps shit was just idiotic, how all he really wanted was to get out of their and get really fucking high.

 

But he’d told Evan about it.

 

He’d told Evan that, aside from a lapse in his early days of being Ben when he didn’t even know what the fuck it was he was taking, he hadn’t touched any drug harder than pot since that summer in rehab.

 

Evan had taken his hand and told him how proud he was and Connor had burst into tears right then and there.

 

He stares at the bottle of pills.

 

Weirdly, he remembers how the pills in the pocket of his hoodie rattled so loudly as he walked to a park in the middle of the night on the first day of senior year.

 

He thinks about how Evan was proud of him for staying clean.

 

Then he thinks about the sound of Evan screaming.

 

And the fact that he knows, without a shred of doubt, that Evan doesn’t even want to be fucking alive right now.

 

He unscrews the cap and pours a couple of pills out onto his hand.

 

And he stares at them for a little while longer.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

 

Connor jolts and sees Zoe in the doorway, her face white and angry as she looks at what he’s holding. “Go away,” he snaps.

 

Zoe shakes her head. “No. No, I’m not doing that.” Pampushka’s behind her, and Connor hears the dog bark, and all of a sudden the room is full of people - Seamus, Gus, Hannah and Zoe. Hannah’s eyes are very, very sad and Seamus’s are wide and frightened but Gus is the one who decisively walks over to the bed, sits down next to Connor and extends his hand.

 

Connor’s hand is shaking as he puts the pills back into the bottle, and hands the bottle to his twin. Gus takes the bottle, gives it to Zoe who’s the closest and pulls Connor into a hug.

 

“You took them from Torpedo, didn’t you?” Zoe says, her voice challenging. “What the actual fuck. Our parents sent you to rehab for a fucking _reason,_ Connor. Just because things are shit right now doesn’t mean you can just-”

 

“Dad’s dead,” Connor blurts out.

 

And immediately regrets it.

 

Zoe pulls back as if she’s been slapped in the face. “That’s not fucking funny,” she practically hisses. “Not now. No. Don’t be a fucking dick.”

 

“He’s not lying,” says Seamus softly, his voice sad. “I just had a discussion with Charles. They found his body in the ruins of DYAD, and security footage confirming he was killed.” Zoe’s breathing heavily now, grabbing onto Hannah for dear life, and Seamus looks like he might cry, too. “If it’s any consolation, it was quick.”

 

“So not like Mom, who bled out for god knows how long before she died in my arms,” says Zoe, her voice numb.

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says weakly. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have told you like that.”

 

Zoe stares at him for a long moment. She’s practically vibrating with pain and an emotion that Connor’s struggling to place.

 

Until she speaks, and he gets it. “It’s not your fault,” she says, brimming with fury. “It’s Evan’s. He got both of our parents killed.”

 

Hannah’s frowning. “Zoe, I don’t think-”

 

Zoe turns on her heel and heads straight out the door. Connor gets up and follows her helplessly, while every single inch of him screams that something very, very bad is about to happen. She heads down the corridor and into a room and Connor loses his breath as he follows her in and sees Evan lying in a bed, hooked up to monitors and IVs, not moving at all.

 

Zoe stares for a moment, breathing so heavily that Connor’s scared for her.

 

Connor stares, too.

 

Evan looks small and broken. He’s so, so still. He’s not still when he sleeps. Connor knows this. Knows this intimately. When he sleeps, it’s all tiny noises and the occasional movement and mumbled words that make absolutely no fucking sense but are completely adorable.

 

But he’s not still.

 

Not usually.

 

“He’s been sedated,” Seamus says from behind them. “He’s not… he won’t be waking up for a while.” He looks at Connor for the briefest of moments, then focuses his attention back on Zoe. “I know you’re mad and I know you’re hurting. But hurting him isn’t going to make you feel better.”

 

Zoe is still staring at Evan. Her face is drained of all color and she’s shaking visibly now. “I hate you,” she says to Evan’s unconscious form. “You destroyed my family. I fucking hate you.”

 

Then Zoe storms out of the room. Hannah locks eyes with Connor as she follows Zoe out, her eyes troubled.

 

Connor focuses his attention back on Evan.

 

He’s so still.

 

He’s too still.

 

“I speak with Heidi,” says Gus, his voice sad. “Evan has panic as he wakes. She thinks… she thinks his spirit is very damaged. Much guilt. Much pain.”

 

“Yeah,” Connor manages to choke out. “I know. I get it, I… I know.”

 

“I know also,” Gus says gently.

 

The twins stand and look at Evan’s still form for a long moment, before heading out and leaving the room.

 

* * *

 

When Evan wakes up, he feels slow. Lethargic. Like he’s trying to walk through molasses. It’s a struggle to open his eyes, but when he manages it, he sees his mother in a chair next to his bed. She’s asleep, but she’s holding his hand. Evan squeezes it gently with as much energy as he can gather and Heidi’s eyes open. She blinks and then smiles weakly at him.

 

“Hi honey,” she says, her voice gentler than he’s ever heard it. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Slow,” he admits. Words feel wrong in his mouth right now.

 

She frowns a little. “We had to sedate you,” she says quietly. “Last time you woke up, you were… you were screaming. Do you… do you remember that?”

 

Evan thinks. He’s not sure if he does. He shakes his head.

 

“Where am I?” he manages to say.

 

“The hotel safe house,” Heidi replies. She looks at him, her face and words cautious. “Do you remember the safe house?”

 

Evan remembers. He nods.

 

Everything’s weird and fuzzy and hazy and fragmented and he can’t make sense of much.

 

But there’s one thing he does know.

 

“Shouldn’t be alive,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t be alive.”

 

Heidi starts crying and if Evan had more energy, he might cry too, because that’s always been his gut reaction to seeing his strong, capable mother in tears. “I’m so glad you are,” she says through her sobs. “Even if you’re not, I am just so, so, so glad you're alive.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com


	92. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone Club learn a little bit about what the future might hold.

Everyone’s subdued at breakfast the next morning. Lucas and Donna have made french toast and there’s plenty of food and coffee. People quietly chat amongst each other, breaking off into small groups. Torpedo sits with his mom and Heidi, who seem to have bonded almost straight away, and Heidi tearfully explains that they’re keeping Evan sedated while he heals. To make sure he does heal. To keep him calm. 

 

Heidi says, very very quietly, that Evan doesn’t think he should be alive, and it makes Torpedo feel sick. 

 

Seamus had taken him aside before everyone started eating to tell him that they’d gotten rid of his fentanyl after Connor almost took some to get high, and Torpedo’s glad they did. He’s got more fentanyl at home and vows to throw out the rest of his stash, too. 

 

Even though he’s still kind of aching and headachey, he never wants to feel that fuzzy, drugged out feeling that comes from fentanyl again. He’s got no interest in any drugs stronger than pot from here on in. 

 

While they’re all gathered together (with the exception of Christina, who is checking Evan’s vitals), Beanpole clears his throat and calmly explains what comes next. 

 

“DYAD’s had the rug pulled out from under it,” he announces to the group. “Stocks in the company are plummeting, investors are pulling out to save their own skins and a lot of companies who’ve dealt with them are boycotting. It’s going to be messy for a while, but we anticipated this.”

 

“What I’m worried about is what this means for the clones,” says Seamus frankly. “The world knows about illegal human cloning now, and that’s… that’s huge. What does that mean for you kids? Are they going to round you up and experiment on you? What kind of backlash will you be facing?”

 

“I was taught that clones are abominations,” Gus pipes up, his face troubled. “Not God’s children, but abominations. Demons. This is extreme view, this I understand now, but there are others who may not see this. Who may think that this is what we are. Abominations.”

 

Connor looks at Gus as he speaks and Torpedo’s stomach churns a little at how sad he looks. 

 

Beanpole’s expression is serious. “We’ve dealt with the Proletheans before,” he says. Gus takes in a sharp breath and Torpedo watches as Pampushka climbs into his lap and licks his face. “We’ve tried to reason with them, but they’re staunch in their beliefs.” Beanpole bites his lip, frowns and then continues. “There aren’t many left, this much I can assure you. But there are remnants. Now that human cloning has become public knowledge, there are dangers.” 

 

Beanpole looks around the room and something in his face shifts. There’s something fierce and passionate in his eyes. “Human cloning is only a part of what DYAD has done. We’ve leaked a lot of information about their monstrosities. Yes, there is a picture of a clone leaked to the public. But that article about Yorick? It’s not tied back to human cloning. The public knows that DYAD made clones, but intimate information about the clones hasn’t been made available to the public at all. To protect us all.”

 

Torpedo is strangely, heartbreakingly, reminded of Ben. 

 

Ben was their leader. Ben was the one who took charge, who made things happen, back when it was just Ben, Lucas, Reed and Torpedo. 

 

Having Beanpole here, assuring the group that they’ll all be okay…

 

It makes him think of Ben. 

 

“The information from DYAD going public is going to warrant an investigation,” Jenny says carefully. “There are people who are going to find out everything. And there’s only so much that can be done to prevent the public from finding out about you all. All it takes is the wrong person finding out the wrong thing. Hell, all it takes is for someone to find pictures of two clones in different parts of the world and go ‘look, it’s a clone!’. There’s… there’s only so much that can be done to keep it a complete secret. Things… things might be dangerous for a while. A long while.”

 

“Not to be that person,” says Lucas, not entirely unkindly, “but things have been dangerous for a long time, Ms. Hetherington.”

 

“We’re doing everything we can to keep things contained,” Beanpole promises. Then he smiles. “I won’t go into too much detail, but… let’s just say we have some leverage.”

 

Donna frowns. “Leverage? What do you mean by that?”

 

Hannah’s eyes widen a little. “You mean the cure, right?” she says, her voice a little hesitant. “I mean, it’s specific to the clone illness right now, but a lot of work has been done and it could have some serious ramifications for other genetic illnesses. The work that’s been done on it… it could genuinely change the world.”

 

Beanpole nods, his smile widening. “We’ll have to keep monitoring those of you who’ve taken the cure,” he says, his voice warm, “but it’s huge, what you’ve done. It’s incredible, especially given everything.” He looks at Hannah and then to Reed. “The two of you, along with Ivy and Evan… you’ve done something incredible. The ESM wants to keep working with you. It’s going to take some time to set things up, and there’s no way we’ll have the crazy amount of resources that DYAD have had in the past, but… we’re going to do our best to keep things going. We’re going to have our hands full, but there are DYAD employees all over the world who want to be doing what’s right. What’s ethical. What’s actually going to help people. We can rebuild into an organization that’s still doing amazing, cutting edge stuff, but without the corruption. Without the disregard for ethics and human life. It’s… it’s going to be huge.”

 

Torpedo has to admit, his clone’s speech is heartwarming. The atmosphere in the room kind of warms up, and everyone goes back to their meals, the room feeling a little bit lighter. 

 

* * *

 

There’s a small army in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes from breakfast and chatting amongst themselves. Gus is whistling to himself, off-key as usual, and Heidi seems to be fighting back a smile as she watches him, Seamus notices. Lucas and Donna head back out into the lobby, Gus announces he’s planning to take Pampushka for a walk, and then it’s just Seamus and Heidi. 

 

Heidi looks straight at Seamus and sighs. “We need to figure out what happens next.”

 

“You’re absolutely right,” Seamus agrees, sighing as well. 

 

He knows that both of his boys have a long road ahead of them, and that it’s possibly even worse for Evan. Connor and Gus have each other, at the very least, but Evan…

 

Seamus may have spent more time with Gus than he has with Connor, but that doesn’t mean that Connor’s a complete mystery to him. Both of his boys have had different challenges and struggles, and they both deal with things in different but similar ways, but he knows Gus just that little bit better. 

 

Some of Gus’s challenges at the very beginning were basic. Seamus could focus on the practical with Gus. Food. Warmth. Shelter. Those very basic things weren’t part of how he’d lived up until meeting Seamus and as heartbreaking as that was, it at the very least gave Seamus a framework to help Gus almost straight away. Something immediate and practical that he could do to make things better. Make things easier. Make things different. 

 

Seamus thinks he needs to focus on the practical with Connor now. 

 

“I don’t want to move Connor until he’s healed,” Seamus says, frowning a little. “And Gus won’t leave him. I think we’re here for the long haul. I’d like to see if Christina can have a look at Connor’s eye. Growing back an eye… it sounds impossible but it’s what we’re dealing with, and it’s not like I can take him to a hospital, or a doctor, or anything.” 

 

Heidi sighs and nods. “I completely understand. I… I wish I could take Evan to a hospital, I really do. It would be so much easier. But taking him now… they’re going to ask questions we can’t answer, and if what’s left of DYAD is still looking for him, it’ll put him in danger.” She rubs her face. “I’d love nothing more than to just bundle him up and take him home, away from all of this. But I’m not a doctor. He needs to heal more before I can even think of moving him.” She wraps her arms around herself protectively. “I just… I worry this isn’t the best environment for him. Zoe’s just lost both of her parents and she blames Evan. Not to mention the emotional impact of having his ex-boyfriend in such close proximity.” 

 

Seamus nods. “I get it, I do.” He tries to smile. “For what it’s worth… I think Connor’s glad Evan survived.” He thinks back to Christmas, and the way Connor’s ears turned pink and his smile turned soft as Gus peppered him with questions about ‘his Evan’ with a grin. The look on Connor’s face as he explained that Evan was working on a cure for all the clones, that when Evan was approached by DYAD he’d gone straight to Reed to tell them, that Evan was doing everything he could to keep the clones safe and healthy…

 

Seamus won’t forget that look in a hurry. 

 

He knows his son. And he knows that Connor still cares very deeply for Evan. 

 

He doesn’t know what will happen between them. He just hopes they’ll both be okay.

 

He hears footsteps approaching, and Zoe and Hannah appear in the doorway. Zoe’s face is pale and she has dark smudges around her eyes, like she hasn’t been sleeping. Hannah’s not quite as pale, but she also looks exhausted. Hannah’s the one to speak up. “Would it be alright to borrow someone’s car?” she asks, a little hesitant. “We want to head into the city and get Zoe a new phone.”

 

“My dad threw it out the window,” Zoe says flatly. Hannah kind of looks at her shoes for a moment. 

 

“You can borrow mine,” says Heidi, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her keys. She hands then to Hannah, who smiles. 

 

“Is there anything you need while we’re out?” Hannah asks politely, and Heidi shakes her head. 

 

“I’ll go check to see if there’s anything Connor wants,” says Zoe abruptly, and she hurries out of the room. Hannah goes to follow her, but then turns to Seamus and Heidi for a moment. 

 

“We’re going to organize flights back to Vermont soon,” she says quietly. “Zoe wants to go back to class.”

 

Heidi frowns. “Her parents just died.”

 

Hannah’s face is tight with grief. “I know. She just… she wants to be back to normal, and I don’t think it helps being here.” Hannah sighs and looks at Heidi. “Zoe is… really upset with Evan. She isn’t really going to want to hear from him or about him for a while, I don’t think, but…” Hannah’s face is ashen now. “Can I give you my number before we go? So you can keep me in the loop? I just… I want to be sure I know he’s okay.”

 

Heidi’s eyes are filled with tears as she nods, and Hannah nods back and heads out of the kitchen to catch up with Zoe. Once she’s gone, Heidi lets out a shuddering sob. “Christ, what a mess.”

 

Seamus can’t bring himself to disagree. 

 

* * *

 

Connor goes back to bed after breakfast. 

 

He figures he’s got every fucking right to, given that he’s growing back a body part. His eye itches and it’s making him feel nauseous and even if he wasn’t injured, he’d just want to be in bed today because… everything is fucking terrible. 

 

Zoe pops in at one point to ask him in he wants anything, and he just murmurs no and goes back to sleep. 

 

When he wakes up, Pampushka is curled up next to him, and Gus is sitting reading something with a pair of headphones in. Connor blinks a couple of times, reaches to the bedside table to put on his eyepatch and sits up. Gus takes his headphones off and smiles. 

 

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently. 

 

“Tired,” Connor replies honestly. 

 

Gus reaches out and squeezes Connor’s shoulder, then shuts his book. “Shall we go downstairs for a little while?” he suggests. “Zoe and Hannah bring back donuts from the city. Zoe went to buy new phone.”

 

Connor dimly remembers Larry throwing Zoe’s phone out the window when they were leaving DYAD. It makes his stomach churn. Still, Gus looks so hopeful, so he nods and drags himself out of bed. They use the service elevator since Connor’s limbs feel like lead and head down to the lobby, where Lucas and Donna are sitting on the sofa, curled up against each other. They both smile when they see Connor.

 

“Hey,” Connor says weakly, throwing himself on a free couch.

 

“How are you feeling?” Donna asks with a sympathetic smile. 

 

“Like shit.”

 

Donna nods. “Fair enough.” She glances at Lucas, who nods, then looks back at Connor and Gus. “We’re going to head home soon,” she says, her tone slightly apologetic. “I know things are… well, we don’t really know what’s going to happen, but we should try getting things back to normal as much as we can.”

 

“But if anything happens and you need us, we’ll come back,” Lucas promises. “And we’ll keep in touch.” 

 

Connor shrugs. He’d kind of expected this. To be honest, he’s surprised Lucas and Donna have stayed as long as they have. He appreciates that they’re here, though. 

 

It always kind of feels a bit better when everyone’s together. 

 

“Is good to see you,” says Gus with a smile. 

 

Lucas smiles. “It’s good to see you too, Gus. I’m glad you’re safe.”

 

Torpedo and his mom appear at the top of the stairs, both carrying suitcases. Connor watches as they come down and Torpedo smiles brightly. “Good, you’re up,” he says to Connor. “We’re heading home for a bit. But we’ll be in touch and we’ll come back if you need us.”

 

“We’re also leaving soon,” says Hannah from the other sofa. Connor hadn’t even seen her and Zoe curled up together. 

 

Having one eye is really screwing with him. He can’t wait until his eye grows back. 

 

He kind of laughs as he realizes what he’s thinking. 

 

His eye is growing back. 

 

His whole damn eyeball. 

 

What a fucking trip. 

 

“I can’t miss any more class,” says Zoe, her tone firm. Connor resists the urge to ask her why the fuck she’s even thinking about going to class right now when both of their parents have died. 

 

He really shouldn’t bring it up. 

 

“Okay,” says Connor, feeling a little lost, for some reason. Everyone’s leaving. Lucas. Donna. Torpedo. Jenny. Hannah. Zoe. 

 

“I do not go,” says Gus from Connor’s side, handing him over a box of donuts. “I stay here with you as long as you need.”

 

Connor takes a donut and leans his head on Gus’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear that.”

 

Zoe’s kind of looking between the two of them, biting her lip. Connor lifts his head and looks at her as best he can. “When, uh, when are you going?”

 

“Not until tomorrow morning,” says Hannah quietly. “But it’ll be early. We got the cheapest flight we could find.”

 

Connor frowns. “I can pay for a flight at a better time if you want,” he says. 

 

“I don’t want your money,” Zoe snaps. The room is quiet, then Zoe’s face crumbles. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “Just… sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” says Connor, feeling a bit numb. 

 

The afternoon passes in a blur. Connor says goodbye to Torpedo and his mom, then to Lucas and Donna, and Zoe and Hannah head up to the room they’re sharing to chill out for a bit, and then it’s just Gus and Connor in the lobby for a while. They play a lackluster game of Connect Four for a bit until Heidi shows up and curls up on one of the sofas across from them, looking absolutely exhausted. 

 

“How is Evan?” Gus asks, his voice very quiet. “He is okay?”

 

“They’re keeping him sedated still,” Heidi says, her voice weary. “He’s been in and out of consciousness, but Christina says the wound is looking good. No sign of infection, which is good. They’re going to try to bring down the sedation a bit tomorrow, see how he’s going and then maybe take it from there.” 

 

“Can I see him?” Connor finds himself blurting out. 

 

He doesn’t know why he said it. 

 

He doesn’t even know if he really wants to see Evan. 

 

Heidi blinks, and then sits up. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” she says, very gently. “Not while he’s still in and out. I don’t want him to see you and freak out. He’s… he’s not in great shape, physically or mentally. It’s not a great idea to put any extra stress on him right now.”

 

“I will pray for healing,” says Gus, in that soft, gentle tone that Connor’s always found so comforting. 

 

“Thank you, Gus,” says Heidi warmly. She looks at Connor, opens her mouth, closes it, bites her lip and then starts talking. “Evan’s not really ready to be moved just yet, so we’ll be here for a bit longer. While he recovers. And you’ll be here, too, while you recover. I…” She takes a deep breath, wipes her face, then fixes Connor with a serious look. “I know you’re upset with him. I know that. And you’re entitled to your feelings, but… he’s fragile. He’s really fragile. And I… I can’t lose my son, Connor. So please just… just leave him be. Let him heal. I can’t lose him.”

 

Connor dimly realizes there are tears on his face. He feels numb. He nods. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	93. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and Hannah go back to Vermont.

Connor, Gus and Seamus wake up early to see Zoe and Hannah off. 

 

Well, that’s not strictly true. Connor’s been up for hours. In the middle of the night, he’d been woken up by the sounds of Evan screaming. It hadn’t lasted long, but it was loud enough to wake him up. He’d only just managed to get back to sleep when he’d been woken up by Gus saying something loudly in Ukrainian in his sleep and nearly punching Connor right in the eye socket. 

 

Connor’s still trying to learn Ukrainian and his vocabulary isn’t exactly huge, but he recognizes the word for help and ends up holding his brother tight as he shakes with sobs for nearly an hour. 

 

He hadn’t gotten back to sleep after that. 

 

Zoe’s still pale, like all the color has been sucked out of her, but she’s gritting her teeth with steely determination. Connor tentatively puts a hand on her shoulder and she pulls him into a fierce hug, then bursts into sobs all over his shirt. 

 

He strokes her hair and presses his lips to the top of her head gently. 

 

He’s got his sister back. 

 

They’ve got a long road ahead before they’ll deal with the years and years of hurt in their past, and the three years she spent mourning him, and that’s not even touching on the fact that they both have to deal with the death of their parents, but…

 

He’s got his sister back in his life. 

 

Even if she’s mad. Even if she hates him. Even if there’s still a fuckton of work that needs to be done before they’ve got anything approaching a healthy relationship. 

 

He’s got his sister back. 

 

“I love you,” he mumbles into her hair. “I’m so, so, so sorry for everything.”

 

“You’re an asshole,” she replies through her sobs. But she doesn’t let go.

 

“You’ll text when you get home? Let me give you my number.”

 

She pulls back and frowns. “I can get on a plane just fine, okay? I’ll text Seamus if you’re going to be paranoid about it. I have his number in case of emergencies.”

 

That stings, but Connor supposes he can’t blame her. 

 

Zoe’s going to need time to sort things out. She’s going to need to sort things out on her own terms. 

 

Connor’s going to need to be patient. 

 

He knows he’s really, really not a patient person. 

 

But he’s going to have to be. 

 

For at least the next little while, his life is going to be waiting. 

 

Waiting to see what happens with the fallout from the fall of DYAD. 

 

Waiting for his eye to grow back. 

 

Waiting to see if Evan…

 

Nope. 

 

He’s not touching that. 

 

Not right now. 

 

Zoe pulls away even further and there’s barely a pause before Gus sweeps her up in a hug so enthusiastic, it lifts her slightly above the ground. Zoe looks taken aback but not mad. In fact, she’s kind of smiling. “You travel safe,” says Gus, his voice warm. “Is good to meet you. Is good to spend time with you. I hope we see each other again, many times.”

 

“I hope so, too,” says Zoe. The look on her face is bewildered, but slightly fond. 

 

Connor’s not even a little bit surprised that Zoe likes Gus better than she likes him. Everyone likes Gus. Gus is the most likable guy on the entire planet, Connor’s pretty sure. 

 

Hannah gives Connor an awkward wave, but doesn’t volunteer a hug, and he doesn’t know her well enough to try, so he just waves back and smiles as warmly as he can. “Hope the flight isn’t too bad,” Connor says to her quietly. “And, uh, thanks.”

 

Hannah looks puzzled. “What for?”

 

Connor shoves his hands in his pockets. “You cured Torpedo,” he says, trying not to make a complete idiot of himself. “He’s important. To me. And you… you’re here for Zoe and… thanks.”

 

Hannah’s ears turn pink and she looks at her shoes, then looks up and gives Connor a half smile. It looks like she’s about to say something, but then Gus pulls her into a hug and she genuinely squeaks in astonishment, and Zoe lets out a laugh.

 

Zoe’s looking at Hannah with a soft smile and Connor is really fucking glad he knows his sister won’t be alone. 

 

Seamus has offered to drive the two of them to the airport, so everyone says their final goodbyes. Connor watches as they leave, then curls up on the sofa, too tired to go back upstairs. Gus sits next to him and Pampushka takes a position between them. 

 

It’s not too long before he’s dozing off.

 

* * *

 

Evan opens his eyes.

 

The first thing he sees is his mother, curled up in an armchair next to his bed. 

 

He knows he’s woken up a few times before, but he’s not really sure of much else at this stage. Only that he probably shouldn’t be alive and that he definitely got shot in the stomach. 

 

He hopes Gus made it out okay. 

 

He hopes Connor’s eye is recovering. 

 

He frowns to himself as he vaguely remembers being told that he’s at the hotel. 

 

The hotel safe house. 

 

He really hopes Connor’s not still here but he can’t see how he couldn’t be. 

 

He sits for a while, just looking at the ceiling, and his mother finally stirs. 

 

“How are you feeling, honey?” she says, her voice thick with sleep.

 

“Kind of fuzzy,” he admits. 

 

She nods. “You’re recovering from a gunshot wound, you’re on a lot of painkillers as well as a sedative.” She takes his hand. “When you’re feeling up to it, Melody wants to talk to you. She’s a psychiatrist. We want… we want to make sure that all of you is being taken care of.”

 

Evan sighs. “Mom, I’m fine.”

 

Heidi’s face is pale as she shakes her head and reaches into her pocket. She pulls out a piece of paper and Evan’s heart plummets. “You’re not,” she says, her voice soft. “Sweetheart, you’re not. You… you went into DYAD to die. You’re not fine.”

 

“I went there to save Gus-”

 

“Please don’t lie to me, Evan,” says Heidi, her tone gentle but firm. She opens up the piece of paper, and Evan notices idly that the creases are worn, like she’s opened and closed it multiple times. “This note… it’s a suicide note, Evan, it’s… you went in there to die.”

 

“Mom-”

 

“‘Mom, I love you, but this is something I have to do. Please try to understand that this is how it had to happen. I’ve done terrible things and I need to make things right for everyone. I love you and I want you to have a full and happy life.’” Evan can’t look at his mother as she starts to cry after reading out his words. “You need help, baby, you almost died. I can’t lose you.”

 

“I didn’t mean to-”

 

“You did,” Heidi says firmly. “You went there to die. You’re lucky someone got you out before the whole place blew up.” Her face softens. “I’m lucky. I’m so, so, so lucky that you’re okay. And I’m going to do everything I can to get you back on track, okay?”

 

Evan just nods. 

 

He doesn’t know how he feels. 

 

He doesn’t feel like he deserves to be alive. 

 

But here’s his mom, sobbing over his suicide note, and he…

 

He still doesn’t think he wants to be alive. 

 

Or that he deserves to be. 

 

But he is, and he’s just… going to have to make the best of it. 

 

For his mom’s sake, if not for his own. 

 

After all, living’s so much harder than just dying. 

 

Maybe he doesn’t deserve to die. Maybe he deserves to live so he can keep dealing with the consequences of everything he’s done. 

 

Maybe it’s the universe’s way of punishing him. 

 

Maybe death is a kindness that he doesn’t deserve. 

 

“Gus got out okay, right?” Evan asks.

 

Heidi nods. “He’s safe.”

 

Evan nods back. “Good. Is… is everyone else okay? Who’s… who’s still here?”

 

“Lucas and Donna left yesterday, and so did Torpedo and his mom. Zoe and Hannah just left about an hour ago, Seamus is taking them to the airport.” Heidi’s face grows sad for a moment. “Larry Murphy died the night that DYAD burned down,” she says quietly. “Zoe’s… having a hard time dealing with that.”

 

Evan feels a wave of nausea flow up through him. 

 

Dead. 

 

Both Murphy parents are dead. 

 

Cynthia and Larry, who welcomed him into their home and treated him with kindness, based on a lie. 

 

They’re both dead. 

 

Zoe and Connor’s parents are both dead. 

 

And it’s Evan’s fault. 

 

It’s Evan’s fault. 

 

It’s Evan’s fault. 

 

He can hear beeping and his mother’s voice and everything’s loudloudloud and he’s struggling to breathe and then he feels everything start to soften around the edges and lies back against his pillow. 

 

His head feels heavy. 

 

He closes his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

Seamus picks up donuts on his way home from dropping Zoe and Hannah at the airport. He figures it’ll make Gus happy, and seeing Gus happy usually improves Connor’s mood, so basically it’s a two for one. 

 

When he gets to the hotel, Connor and Gus are both on the couch. Connor is quietly snoring and Gus is curled up with Pampushka, stroking her head gently. He smiles as he sees Seamus. 

 

“Hi Dad,” says Gus quietly. His eyes light up when Seamus holds up the box of donuts. Seamus puts them on the coffee table and Gus grabs one straight away, then sits back in his spot on the couch and starts eating happily. 

 

Gus still enjoys his food, but he eats less like someone’s going to take his food away at any moment. It’s taken a while, but Seamus considers it progress. 

 

Connor doesn’t stir. He’s fast asleep. Seamus considers waking him up to move him, but Gus looks at him and shakes his head. 

 

“Connor does not sleep last night,” Gus says, his voice a little guilty. “I had bad night. He does not sleep well when he worries. Is best to let him sleep now, I think.”

 

“You okay?” Seamus asks Gus, keeping his voice quiet so as not to disturb Connor. “We haven’t talked about what happened at DYAD.”

 

“I know you are here if I need to talk, Dad,” says Gus, his voice serious. “I think I am not ready yet. But I know you are always here.” Gus smiles. “Love you much.”

 

Seamus smiles. “Love you, too.”

 

Charles appears at the top of the stairs, then heads down toward them quietly and smiles. He looks tired. It’s still relatively early and he looks like he’s still in his pajamas. His hair is a mess and he disappears into the kitchen, then comes back a few minutes later with a cup of tea. Gus picks up the box of donuts and shakes it in Charles’s direction. “Donut for you?”

 

Charles smiles, then takes a donut and sits down on a sofa. “How are you feeling today, Gus?” he asks, his voice warm. 

 

“It is hard night,” Gus says frankly. “Memories of things I do not wish to think of. But I am safe here with my donuts and my dog and my family. This is blessing.”

 

Charles nods. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out sooner,” he says quietly. “But the people who hurt you won’t have the opportunity to do it again, I assure you.”

 

“How much longer will you be in town?” Seamus finds himself asking. 

 

Charles sighs. “Not too much longer, I’m afraid. I’ve been in constant contact with others in my organization. We’re meeting in Johannesburg at the end of the week to discuss what happens next.” 

 

“Johannesburg,” says Gus tentatively, trying out the unfamiliar word. “This is in the South of Africa, yes?”

 

“South Africa, yes,” Charles confirms with a smile. He leans in a little, his voice passionate. “There’s a lot that needs to be done, and we need to discuss how we move forward. DYAD has committed atrocities, but it has also made some incredible breakthroughs that could help a lot of people. What we’re proposing is to build up an organization from the ground. Taking what we’ve learned from DYAD. Working toward a common goal of bettering society while taking away some of the politics. And always focusing on what’s ethical first. No more secrets - just discovery.”

 

Seamus thinks it’s a noble goal, albeit a little naive, but he doesn’t want to be the one to burst Charles’s bubble. He’s a good kid, Seamus thinks, with a lot on his shoulders, and it makes sense that he’s taking on a leadership position. 

 

Seamus can’t help but worry for all these kids. And they are all still just kids, even if they’re 21 now. He worries about Zoe, who’s lost both her parents so close together in such violent circumstances. He worries about Torpedo and Lucas and really hopes that the cure continues to keep them safe and well. 

 

He worries about his boys and everything they’ve been through. 

 

He worries about Evan and wishes he’d maybe said something before they went into DYAD that day. Because deep down, Seamus knew what Evan had planned that day. He knew Evan went into DYAD to die. 

 

Heidi comes down the stairs, wearing a jacket and holding a bag. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying and Seamus stands up. “Where are you off to?” he asks. 

 

“Evan’s apartment,” she says quietly. “I want to get him some clothes, maybe some books - a few familiar things to help him recover.” 

 

“I’ll come with you,” Seamus offers. Heidi goes to protest but Seamus gets in first. “Just in case DYAD are keeping an eye on Evan’s apartment. You shouldn’t go alone, just in case.”

 

Heidi frowns for a moment, then nods. “I suppose you’re right,” she says, a bit reluctantly. 

 

“Have donut for road,” Gus offers, and Heidi smiles as she takes one from the box. 

 

She takes a bite and Seamus notices she has powdered sugar on her nose. He kind of wants to brush it off, but that’s not even slightly appropriate so he keeps his hands to himself. 

 

When the two of them get to Evan’s apartment, Heidi tenses up. “Something’s wrong,” she says quietly, and turns on the lightswitch.”

 

There’s a woman with dark hair sitting on the couch. She’s in expensive looking clothing. She rises to her feet and pulls out a gun. Seamus pulls out his own weapon at the same time. Heidi looks between them, her face white as a sheet. 

 

“Where’s Evan Hansen?” asks the woman, her voice maddeningly even. 

 

“Somewhere safe,” snaps Heidi. “Who the hell are you?”

 

“Veronica Harding, head of security at the DYAD Institute,” she says, her lips curling into a smile. The gun in her hands is aimed straight at Heidi. “You must be Heidi. We were supposed to be getting much better acquainted, but unfortunately you didn’t come quietly when we tried to take you in.”

 

“So you’re with Dominic, then,” says Seamus. His heart is pounding. All he can think about is getting Heidi out of here safely. Getting them both out of here safely, without anyone getting hurt, without this woman finding the safe house where they’re all staying. 

 

Seamus knows what he’s going to have to do here. 

 

It doesn’t mean he likes it. 

 

“Dominic’s dead,” Veronica spits out, and her face crumbles into an expression that looks like genuine grief. “Larry Murphy killed him. Choked him to death with a pillow.”

 

“DYAD killed his wife,” Heidi says through clenched teeth. “What did you expect?”

 

“Your son helped bring down an organization I’ve been working for my entire career,” says Veronica, glaring at Heidi. “Obviously, you can see why I can’t let him live.” 

 

“Kill me if you want,” Heidi snaps, “but you’re never getting anywhere near my son.”

 

“Protective,” says Veronica with a smirk. “That’s nice, I suppose. More parents could stand to be like you.” 

 

“This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed,” says Seamus, trying to keep his voice even. “We’re at a standstill, we can all just walk away.”

 

“I don’t care if you kill me,” Veronica spits out. “I have nothing left. Whatever’s left of DYAD will kill me when they find me, Dominic’s dead and all I have is revenge.” She stares at Heidi. “Killing you would destroy your son, wouldn’t it? Utterly destroy him. From what I hear, he barely got out of DYAD alive.”

 

“Evan’s not responsible for Dominic’s death,” says Seamus, trying to keep his voice calm. “Think about it. You know this.”

 

Veronica’s eyes are more than a little crazed. Seamus notices that they’re bloodshot. She’s been crying. She’s a loose cannon right now and as much as he doesn’t want to kill today, he’s not sure he can get out of this without someone ending up dead. 

 

“No,” she says, almost thoughtfully. “It was Larry Murphy. And since his wife’s dead and I don’t know where his son is… his daughter.” She smiles. “Larry Murphy has a daughter, that’s right! She’s in Vermont. It wouldn’t take long to find Zoe. Put a bullet in her pretty little head to match her father-”

 

Seamus pulls the trigger and shoots Veronica Harding right between the eyes. 

 

The room is dead silent for a long moment. 

 

Seamus turns to Heidi, expecting to see her freaking out. 

 

She’s not. Her expression is hard and cold and full of contempt. 

 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Seamus says finally. 

 

“You made the right call,” Heidi says firmly. “There was no other way this could have gone.”

 

“I wasn’t going to let her shoot you,” Seamus says, equally firmly. 

 

Heidi looks straight at him. Her face softens a little. “I know, Seamus,” she says gently. “I’m glad you’re here.” She looks at Veronica Harding’s dead body and her face hardens again. “We need to get rid of the body,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “If I were you, I’d call Beanpole. He’s resourceful.”

 

“I’ve got people of my own I can call,” Seamus says, equally as matter-of-fact. “Why don’t you get the things of Evan’s that he might want and I’ll get things sorted.”

 

Heidi nods, then disappears through a door into what must be a bedroom. Seamus picks up his phone and rings Renee. She’ll know someone local who can help with clean-up. 

 

Soon they’re back in the car. They take a long, complicated route back to the hotel, just to make sure no one’s following them, and take a lot of detours to be completely sure. When they finally arrive back at the hotel, Heidi turns to Seamus before they get out of the car. 

 

“The kids don’t need to know about this,” she says firmly. “Evan. Connor. Gus. Zoe. None of them need to know about this.”

 

“Agreed,” says Seamus, nodding. “They’re healing. They don’t need to know.”

 

“You probably saved my life today,” Heidi says with a small smile. “If I’d gone there alone…”

 

Seamus doesn’t want to think about that.

 

“Can I take you out for dinner sometime?” Seamus blurts out instead.

 

Heidi laughs a little. “Maybe once things have settled down a bit.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“That’s definitely not a no.”

 

Seamus smiles. “Alright.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	94. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing takes time.

The next time Evan wakes up, there’s a clone in his room. 

 

It takes him a while to figure out which one. He’s groggy and not quite awake. Soon the details start piecing themselves together and he recognizes Charles. 

 

Beanpole. 

 

Whatever. 

 

“How are you feeling?” asks Beanpole, his voice calm and quiet. 

 

“Like I got shot in the stomach,” Evan replies, equally quiet. 

 

Beanpole smiles humorlessly. “Yes, well, that’s an unfortunate side effect of being shot in the stomach.”

 

It takes a bit more time for Evan to realize that it’s not just Beanpole there. There’s also the dark-skinned woman with the multi-colored braids, another woman with thick glasses and long blonde hair, and his mother. Heidi moves to sit in the armchair and smiles at Evan. 

 

His stomach is churning. He feels like he’s about to be yelled at. 

 

He tries to make himself as small as he can in the bed. Fold in on himself. 

 

Disappear. 

 

“You’ve seen Christina before, probably,” says Beanpole, gesturing to the dark-skinned woman. “She’s a doctor who works with the ESM. We knew we couldn’t take you to a regular hospital, at least not right now, so she’s agreed to oversee your recovery.” Beanpole gestures to the other woman. “And this is her wife, Melody. She’s a psychiatrist.”

 

Evan sighs. “I don’t need a psychiatrist-”

 

“You do,” says Heidi firmly. “You tried to kill yourself and nearly succeeded.”

 

“I’m here to help,” says Melody. Her voice is kind, Evan thinks. “We can look at medication, we can talk about what’s been going on… and you don’t have to lie to me. You don’t have to hold anything back, because I know all about what’s been going on with DYAD and the clones and everything.” She smiles and moves a little closer to Evan. “Your mom says you’ve seen a therapist before, so some of the stuff we’ll work on you’ll be familiar with, but it’s not exactly an everyday situation, what you’ve been through. What all of you have been through.”

 

“Part of repairing the damage done by DYAD is to get help for people affected by what it’s done,” says Beanpole, his voice firm. “They’ve affected the health and well-being of a lot of people, and we want to start making things right. Over the next few months, we’ll be offering counseling services to people who need it. Melody’s going to be working with other mental health professionals so they know what to expect. It’ll be entirely confidential and we’ll work to keep everyone safe, but it’s important, I think.” Beanpole fiddles with his glasses absently and Evan notices how very, very tired he looks. “Even I’ll be seeing someone. It’s… this has been hard for everyone.”

 

“Someone will be able to help Gus and Connor, right?” Evan blurts out. “They deserve… they deserve some peace.”

 

Beanpole nods. “Yes. Someone will help them. But right now, you need to focus on getting your health better.” His expression softens a little and he sits down at the edge of Evan’s bed. “You’ve been through a lot and maybe some of the decisions you’ve made haven’t been the best, but you need to understand that you’ve been a huge part of this. It’s your hard work and diligence that made the clone cure possible.”

 

Evan shakes his head. “No. No, it wasn’t me, it was Reed and Hannah. I had nothing to do with it.”

 

“You had everything to do with it,” Beanpole insists. He smiles a little. “Did you know I’ve been working on the cure myself since 2019? That’s nearly 2 years, and I got nowhere near as far as you did. And you didn’t have the background I did. And you were worked to near exhaustion, under impossible constraints, under so much pressure. What you achieved… it set the groundwork for Hannah and Reed to have their breakthrough and finish it. And you did this all at great personal risk.”

 

Evan thinks back to Connor’s words. 

 

_ I guess it made you feel important, being part of this big science organization, but you know what? You weren’t even useful. All that work, all that stress, all that effort and someone better came along and did what you couldn’t do. _

 

“I had nothing to do with it,” he repeats. 

 

Beanpole looks deeply sad. “You’re an important part of this,” he says quietly. “I don’t know what else I can say to make you see that. When you’re healed, both mentally and physically… there’s a place for you in whatever we build from the ashes of DYAD. You’ve earned it. It’s there if you want it.” He looks at Evan intently. “You made more of an impact than you can possibly know.”

 

Evan thinks he’s lying. 

 

But it’s a nice lie, he supposes.

 

* * *

 

Connor’s never been particularly patient, but there’s not a lot he can do but wait over the next week. 

 

It turns out his eye isn’t going to take a few days to grow back like the DYAD scientist told him. It’s infinitely more complicated than that. It is growing back, slowly but surely, and it’s itchy and feels weird and makes it hard to see properly, but he’s getting used to it. 

 

Christina, the ESM doctor who’s checking in every day, thinks that it might take a full two weeks for the eye to grow back to something approaching normal looking, but that it might take a bit longer than that for Connor to regain full visibility. And that just… really sucks. 

 

“It’s not like we can refer to previous literature on this,” she says with a frown. “This is not exactly something I’ve ever seen before. But at the rate it seems to be going, this is what I foresee. I think it’s really important that you rest, eat well, get plenty of sleep and just be patient. The fact that it’s growing back at all… that’s incredible.”

 

She then goes on to ask a bunch of questions about Connor’s experiences with his regeneration abilities, which he answers as best he can, and her face just gets more and more animated as the conversation continues, and even though she’s being professional, Connor can tell that she’s totally geeking out. 

 

He’s reminded a little of Hannah. 

 

He hopes that Zoe and Hannah are back in Vermont and doing okay. 

 

Melody meets with him every few days, gently asking questions about his experiences at DYAD. He’s cagey at first, because he’s always been cagey when it comes to therapy. Even though he’s tried to be proactive about his mental health since senior year of high school, he’s always held things back, because no one would understand. Because the things that he has to deal with are so outside the realm of reality that talking about them with a normal therapist would get him locked in a rubber room in no time. 

 

But Melody’s not a normal therapist. 

 

She still follows all the confidentiality rules and she’s a professional, but she knows all the history. She knows all the strange and bizarre things that being a clone has brought into Connor’s life. And she doesn’t think he’s crazy. 

 

It takes him a while to open up, but eventually, it all comes pouring out, and he leaves his sessions with Melody drained but strangely hopeful. 

 

Melody’s very strict on patient confidentiality, which makes sense since as well as treating Connor, she’s treating Gus and Evan. 

 

It’s been nearly a week since Connor’s seen Evan. He knows he’s alive. He knows his gunshot wound is healing. He knows he’s not in great shape mentally. He knows he’s seeing Melody and that his mother is worried sick about him. 

 

Heidi doesn’t want Connor seeing Evan while he’s fragile. 

 

Connor doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

 

He knows that he told Evan he never wanted to see him again. 

 

But he still feels like it’s not done. 

 

They’re not done. 

 

Connor still loves Evan and that’s just something he’s going to have to deal with. 

 

Gus is still having nightmares and he and Connor are still sharing a room and a bed, despite there being no shortage of spare rooms in this old, weird hotel. Every now and then, Seamus’s friend Renee who owns the place pops around, seeing if they need anything, and she’s nice enough. Her accent is thicker than Seamus’s but Seamus’s gets far more pronounced when he talks to her, and it’s kind of funny to listen to.

 

Connor still has no idea why this woman owns this old, weird hotel, but he has to admit it’s been useful, and he’s starting to feel at home here. 

 

A few days after everyone else leaves, Seamus makes a trip to New York to get some clothes for Connor and brings back things like his bedspread and his books, which Connor appreciates more than he can say. 

 

Not that he’s having a great time reading these days with only one eye. It just makes him tired. 

 

Gus notices, and finds a website that sells audiobooks, and buys a few for Connor to listen to while he’s recovering. 

 

It’s nice. 

 

When it gets near the two-week mark, Seamus tells Connor that Zoe’s been in touch. 

 

There’s going to be a funeral service for their parents. 

 

Connor knows he can’t be there to support Zoe the way he wants to, at least not officially. It’s going to be a small service, with only close family, but they’d definitely notice if he came back from the dead. So he’ll have to be careful.

 

There’s a long discussion with Seamus and Heidi about how to manage it, but in the end, Heidi offers to drive him back home for the service, then drive him back to Boston to keep recovering. 

 

His eye has nearly healed, but he’s still having trouble seeing, so he agrees to Heidi’s terms. 

 

The night before the day of the funeral, Connor can’t sleep. Gus is snoring away and Connor decides he’s just going to get up and make a cup of tea. Maybe it’ll help him feel better. Help him sleep. 

 

He heads down to the kitchen and Pampushka follows him, for some reason. He scratches her head as he makes a cup of tea and is just about to head back to the lobby when he hears a voice behind him. 

 

“Sorry Gus, I didn’t mean to… I can go.”

 

It’s Evan. 

 

It’s been so long since Connor’s heard Evan’s voice, aside from the screaming, and it’s making his heart ache. 

 

He processes Evan’s words. Evan thinks he’s Gus.

 

Connor makes a dumb decision.

 

“Is okay,” he says, trying to replicate his twin’s accent. “You can stay.” He swallows. “You are well?”

 

“I’m doing better, yeah,” says Evan. He sounds exhausted. Connor wants, very badly, to turn around and look at him, but then he’ll see the eyepatch and there’s every chance he’ll just run, and…

 

He needs to talk to him. He needs to hear his voice. Even if it’s just for a little while.

 

“Is good,” he says quietly.

 

“I’m so sorry, Gus,” Evan says, his voice rough with emotion. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. It was wrong of me to ask you and I’m so, so, so sorry, I’m never… I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” He kind of snorts. “I know Connor will never forgive me.” 

 

“You try to make it right,” says Connor quietly. “Is good.”

 

“It’s not enough,” Evan says, almost to himself. “It’s not… you must hate me. Connor hates me. I know he does. I hate me. I… I let DYAD make me into a monster and I knew it was happening but I was just… Connor was right, I got caught up in it and I… I deserve to die for what I’ve done but no one will let me. No one will _let_ me.”

 

Connor can hear Evan sobbing and everything inside him is screaming that he needs to go to him, he needs to comfort him, he needs to…

 

“Connor,” says the quiet voice of his twin, “you are being cruel.”

 

Evan makes a choking sound and Connor turns around to see Gus in the doorway, frowning. Evan’s eyes are wide with shock and he looks utterly devastated. Gus turns to Evan, who looks like he’s about to make a run for it, and puts his hand on his shoulder. “I do not hate you,” says Gus seriously. “I never hate you. And you do not deserve death. I am glad your body is healing, and I pray very much that your spirit heals too.” He squeezes Evan’s shoulder, then looks at Connor. “Your accent is very bad. I do not sound like this.”

 

Gus leaves the room, Pampushka following him, and Evan stares at Connor for a long moment. 

 

“I thought you were dead,” Connor says, his voice thick with emotion. “For nearly a full twenty-four hours after that night at DYAD, I thought you were dead.”

 

“Now you know how that feels,” Evan replies, his tone a little defensive. “I thought you were dead for three years.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

 

“You said you never wanted to see me again,” Evan reminds him quietly. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t my decision to stay here.”

 

“I know,” Connor says. “You’d rather be dead.” Evan looks away. “I’m glad you’re not,” Connor continues. “I’m so, so, so glad you’re not.”

 

“How’s your eye?” Evan asks, moving a little bit closer. 

 

Connor pulls off the eye patch and lets Evan look. It’s still bruised and swollen, but it’s no longer just an empty socket. There’s an eyeball there, even if the eyelid isn’t quite up to opening yet. Evan takes in a sharp breath as he sees it, but looks intrigued despite himself. 

 

“It’s itchy,” Connor says. 

 

“That makes sense,” Evan replies, nodding a bit to himself. His face goes pale. “Mom said you’re going to your parents’ funeral tomorrow.”

 

Connor nods. There’s a lump in his throat. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Connor looks at the floor. “I know you are.”

 

“It’s my fault.”

 

Connor looks back at Evan, who’s crying. He shakes his head. “It was Dominic. DYAD. The whole… the whole fucked up situation.” 

 

Evan doesn’t look like he believes him. He wipes his face a little. “Gus is really okay?” he asks, his voice almost desperate. “I… I really, really want him to be okay.”

 

“He’s going to be okay,” Connor says. “Melody… she’s good. She’s helping.” He clears his throat. “You’re seeing her as well, right?”

 

Evan nods. “Yeah.”

 

“Is it helping?”

 

Evan shrugs. “I still want to die, but… I don’t know. It’s going to take a while.” He laughs a little hollowly. 

 

A thought occurs to Connor. He frowns. “You didn’t… why did you come to the kitchen, Evan?”

 

Evan sighs. “I couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs. “I was going to get tea or something. Mom’s locked up the knives and anything else I could hurt myself with. She won’t even let me shave.”

 

Connor hadn’t even noticed that Evan’s sporting a relatively impressive beard. He smiles, despite himself. “Beard looks good on you, though.”

 

Evan smiles. “I liked your beard.”

 

“Took ages to grow properly,” Connor confesses. “Seamus and Gus gave me so much shit when it was growing in over the summer, oh my god.”

 

Evan’s smile brightens, then turns wistful. “I like your face, with or without it.”

 

The words are like a jolt to his chest. “Well, you’ve seen a lot of my face,” Connor points out. 

 

Evan shakes his head. “Not the face of the Phanes clones,” he says, his voice firm. “Your face. Yours. Connor Murphy.”

 

Connor’s heart is pounding and he moves closer to Evan. For a long, heartbreaking moment, he thinks Evan’s going to take a step forward, too. Then Evan sighs and moves toward the door. 

 

“Did you want tea?” Connor finds himself asking, almost desperately. 

 

Evan shakes his head. “I’m okay.” He looks back at Connor. “Tell your parents I’m so sorry.”

 

Connor doesn’t have the chance to respond before Evan leaves, and he stands in the kitchen for a long time, holding his cup of tea as it grows cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	95. THEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben Childs graduates.

The last few weeks of the school year pass in a blur of assignments and exams and more coffee than is probably healthy. Connor’s not exactly struggling to keep up, but he wants to do well. Finish on his own terms. It’s not like Ben Childs has anything to prove to anyone, but Connor Murphy does. Even though he’s never going to see the teachers who treated him like an idiot with no future, he can look at his grades, smile and imagine showing up to his old school, throwing down his report card on his asshole history teacher’s desk with an enthusiastic “fuck you”. 

 

Obviously, he’s not going to do that. 

 

But even the mental image is kind of nice. 

 

Three days before graduation, he gets a call from Ben’s mother. Once again, she sounds like she’s in a hurry. Once again, Connor can’t help but feel like absolute shit on Ben’s behalf. 

 

“We’re so sorry we won’t make it for graduation,” says Ben’s mother, her voice barely apologetic. “It’s just been so busy. We will be back in town in late August, though, just before you start college. Oh, and our realtor should be in touch with you soon. We’re selling the apartment.”

 

Connor has absolutely no idea how to respond to that. 

 

He’s realized he has absolutely no idea what’s supposed to be happening when he starts college, either. It’s not like the apartment he’s currently in is too far from NYU, so he’d just kind of assumed he’d be staying. 

 

He’s got no real interest in living in a dorm, that’s for sure.

 

“Alright,” he says, trying to keep his voice level. “Do you need me to do anything?”

 

“Oh, we’ll hire packers and movers,” she says, her tone breezy. “And Gavin will help you find something that’ll suit you. We just feel like the apartment in New York is too big for just you, and we’ll be traveling even more once you start college, so why not downsize? You and Gavin can look for places you might like. You can start college in your own apartment, how does that sound?”

 

Honestly, it doesn’t sound like it’s going to be any different from how he’s been living for the last year. And Connor has to admit, a new start for college is a good idea. 

 

A lot has happened in this apartment. 

 

Sex with Jerome. Multiple times. 

 

Extremely ill-advised sex with Guy. Just the once. 

 

Reed, making vegan soup and dealing with Connor’s shell-shocked reaction to Guy’s death.

 

Seamus, telling him their shared history on the couch over tea and whiskey. 

 

Reed, Gus and Connor getting high on brownies and watching Adventure Time. 

 

Gus, slicing wings into his back. 

 

The distraught look on Seamus’s face as he realized just how damaged Gus was. 

 

Donuts. 

 

Pizza. 

 

Gus’s drawings are still on the fridge. 

 

There are things he'd like to forget in this apartment. But there are things he’d like to remember, as well. 

 

“Sounds good,” he says to Ben’s mom. 

 

“Great.” She sounds distracted. “I’m sorry honey, but we’ve got to go. We’re flying to Australia so we’ve got a connecting flight to catch in less than an hour. Keep in touch and let us know how things go, and have a great time at graduation. We’re sorry we can’t be there. Say hi to Pippa from us!”

 

Connor has no idea if Pippa has even met Ben’s parents but promises to do so regardless. 

 

The call ends and he looks at his phone for a while. 

 

Ben must have been so lonely. 

 

So incredibly lonely. 

 

Connor’s never going to completely understand Ben Childs, but he’s trying. He’s done a lot of reading through of pieces of writing Ben’s done. Most of it is essay style or articles, but every now and then there’s a piece of something in free verse that makes Connor’s heart hurt. 

 

Connor’s going to try to write more, he thinks. 

 

He’s not Ben. He’s never going to be Ben. But there are things that connect them, besides this face. 

 

He’s been looking through courses at NYU and he’s decided to stay away from journalism. It was Ben’s dream, not his, and Connor’s decided that college is a time for him to find some kind of balance. 

 

Balance between Ben Childs and Connor Murphy. 

 

Chances are, he’ll be answering to Ben for a long time. Possibly the rest of his life. He’ll be living under a fake name, pretending to be a whole other person, and it’s going to be hard. 

 

It’s not a normal way to live. 

 

But college is supposed to be a time for self-discovery, right? So maybe he can figure out how to be a whole person, even though there’s always going to be a disconnect between who he is and what the world calls him. 

 

Connor thinks it’s important that the world doesn’t forget Ben.

 

He also thinks it’s important he doesn’t forget Connor.

 

He knows he’s not the same person he was when he came face to face with himself on a park bench at midnight. But he thinks he likes who he is now a whole lot more.

 

He knows he likes who he is now a whole lot more.

 

His clones are getting ready to graduate, too, except Reed who’s homeschooled. Torpedo is fairly relaxed about things, having never really cared too much about his grades, but Lucas manages to work himself into a panic over his final English exam. Connor ends up going over his notes with Lucas over Skype and while he doesn’t manage to calm him down completely, Lucas grudgingly admits he’s feeling more confident. 

 

And then finally, it’s all over and Connor’s at his high school graduation. 

 

It’s so fucking weird. 

 

He honestly never believed he’d be here. 

 

And yeah, technically it’s Ben’s high school graduation, but he’s going to claim it as a victory. 

 

He’d decided to wear the socks Torpedo got him for Christmas, and as he sits through the boring speeches, he catches a peek of them under the cuff of his pants and smiles to himself. 

 

Pippa’s the valedictorian, which doesn’t surprise him at all, and her speech is generic but uplifting, and he makes sure to smile at her and clap as loudly as he can. 

 

Then it’s time to walk across the stage. 

 

He knows there’s no one there to see him when his name is called, but he looks out into the crowd anyway. 

 

His heart stops. 

 

There, at the back of the room, is a familiar head of pink hair, next to a guy in an equally familiar Pacman hoodie. 

 

He breaks into a huge smile. It’s Reed and Torpedo. 

 

Torpedo’s hooting and hollering and Reed’s doing some kind of weird dance move thing and it’s so stupid that they’re here, it’s such a fucking bad idea, but Connor can’t bring himself to care. 

 

He takes his diploma and goes back to his seat, still smiling. 

 

When the ceremony’s over, Pippa finds him almost immediately. 

 

“Hey,” she says. “Congratulations.”

 

“You too,” he replies, giving her a quick hug.

 

“My abuela wants to know if you wanted to join us for dinner,” she says, her voice a little tentative. “I keep telling her we broke up, but she knows your parents aren’t here and doesn’t want you to be alone.”

 

“That’s nice of her,” Connor says sincerely, “but I’ve actually got some family here.”

 

Pippa frowns. “Really?”

 

Connor kind of chuckles. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say I only found them recently.”

 

“As long as you’re not alone,” says Pippa, her voice soft. “I worry about you, you know. You spend so much time alone.”

 

Connor smiles. “Not so much these days.”

 

He pulls her in for another hug, then heads out to the parking lot where Torpedo and Reed are waiting by his car. He laughs when he sees them and Reed pulls them all into a group hug. 

 

“You guys are fucking idiots,” Connor says as they let go. “Showing your ugly faces around here.”

 

“We weren’t about to let you graduate alone,” says Reed with a smile. 

 

“This was reckless.”

 

“But worth it,” says Torpedo, grinning. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Remember that diner we went to with Guy that time? We should go there. Get some food.”

 

“Do they do anything vegan?” Reed asks. 

 

Torpedo shrugs. “Water’s vegan, right?”

 

Reed sighs. “Oh my god.”

 

They end up driving for a bit as Reed frantically Googles and finding something out the outskirts of town that’s got vegan options. The three of them pile into a booth in a tiny, badly lit restaurant and Connor feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

 

Private message from  **soccer_guy**

 

**soccer_guy** : congratulations on graduating

**soccer_guy** : you made it

**soccer_guy** : and in one piece, too

**soccer_guy** : who’d have thought?

 

Connor chuckles to himself.

 

**emochilds** : ur a dick

**emochilds** : but thx

 

“So what’s the plan now that you’re all graduated and grown up?” Torpedo asks. “Summer of debauchery, New York City style?”

 

Connor laughs. “Not even a little. I’m still waiting to hear, but there was a vague plan that I’d go spend some time with Seamus and Gus, so that’s on the cards.” He eats a fry and continues. “Oh, and Ben’s parents are selling the apartment and like, buying me a new one.”

 

Reed snorts. “Glad they actually told you. They’re so fucking useless, oh my god.”

 

“You’re not wrong there.”

 

Torpedo kind of sighs. “Do you think if they’d been… less fucking useless, Ben would have been okay?” he asks, a little hesitantly. 

 

“I don’t know,” Connor replies honestly. “I don’t think it’s ever just… one thing.”

 

“It didn’t help,” Reed replies, their voice a little dark. “They should have… they shouldn’t have just left him alone like that.” They shrink into themselves a bit. “We shouldn’t have left him alone like that.”

 

“We can’t change what happened to Ben,” Connor says, as gently as he can manage. “We can just… fuck, I don’t know, make sure we look after each other, I guess. Whatever happens.” 

 

Torpedo nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. We’re family.” Something very, very sad passes over Torpedo’s face for a moment. “We’re not losing another one.”

 

“We’re not,” Connor agrees. Something occurs to him. “What do you think it would have been like? If it were five of us instead of four? If Ben had survived and I’d just… fuck, I don’t know, run away or some shit?”

 

“You and Ben would have driven each other crazy,” Reed muses with a smile. “But I think he would have liked you. And you probably would have liked him, too.”

 

“If I can get along with Lucas, I can get along with anyone,” Connor quips and Torpedo cracks up laughing. 

 

“He’s not so bad, once he gets the stick out of his ass,” says Torpedo. 

 

“Lucas is fine,” Connor says with a laugh of his own. “We’re just… different. And you can’t choose your family, right?”

 

“I don’t know about that,” says Reed thoughtfully. “I mean… there are hundreds of us out there, you know? I think that our friendship or bond or whatever is something we chose. We don’t have to have anything to do with each other if we don’t want to.” They shrug. 

 

“I’m glad we do,” Connor says, surprising himself at how much he means it.

 

Torpedo picks up his milkshake and raises it in the air. “To Ben,” he says, his voice solemn. “For bringing us all together.”

 

Reed and Connor raise their glasses and the three of them clink them together. 

 

“To Ben.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	96. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus and Heidi go on a date. Evan, Connor and Gus eat pizza.

Evan’s not planning to get shot in the stomach ever again. Because holy shit is healing from it a pain in the ass. Well, in the gut. He’s up and walking again, which is good, but even so it’s easy to get tired and he finds himself having to sit down a lot. 

 

They’ve been at the hotel for nearly three weeks now, and he’s moving better than he has been. Connor’s eye is apparently healing well, too, though not 100% better yet, and Evan’s definitely curious as to how the regeneration works. From all accounts, he grew a new pinky finger overnight, but a fully functioning eye is taking a lot more time. 

 

Then again, they’re not just recovering from the physical. Everything takes its toll. 

 

Melody is nice, Evan thinks. She’s kind and she’s understanding and she’s… well, she’s really patient, which he appreciates, because he feels like he’s going around in circles half of the time. He just can’t seem to stop his mind from catching on his mistakes. Every single one of them. 

 

There’s so much he’s fucked up. 

 

Reed stops by and visits every now and then. They’re busy with class and sometimes will bring their notes and Evan will help them study. It’s nice. It’s normal. 

 

It’s a lot closer to what Evan expected college to be when he first moved to Boston. 

 

When he’s not busy sobbing his heart out with Melody or doing the exercises Christina has prescribed to get his movement back, Evan focuses most of his energy on avoiding Gus and Connor and worrying about his mom, who appears to have dropped her entire life to look after him. 

 

He talks to her about it, and she assures him she’s got everything sorted. She’s been back home a couple of times and is in the process of packing up the house, she informs him. Which sends him into a complete panic at first, but she manages to calm him down and tells him, very calmly, that she’s got a job offer in Boston and her priority is being there for him right now. When they eventually leave the hotel, she’ll stay with him at his apartment until she finds something of her own, and no one’s kicking them out of the hotel until they’re ready to leave. 

 

It’s a weird sort of limbo and Evan doesn’t necessarily like it, but he accepts it’s how things have to be. For now. 

 

To be honest, he’s kind of relieved he won’t be alone, at least not for the beginning. 

 

He’s still not 100% sure he trusts himself not to do something stupid, but he thinks he’s getting better. The meds are helping. He feels less overwhelmed. 

 

He’s sleeping a lot, though. Christina says it’s normal because he’s healing. 

  
Evan’s spent most of the day in bed when he decides he needs a change of scenery. He takes the service elevator (stairs are still a bit too much) heads into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, then takes it into the lobby where he sits on a sofa, wincing a little at the sting of pain as he moves. He sits, enjoying the change of view for a while, and is considering making the move upstairs to go grab a book or something when he sees his mother coming down the stairs. 

 

She’s all dressed up. 

 

He wasn’t expecting that. 

 

She looks nice and she’s done her hair and makeup and she’s in a cute dress and heels and it’s… really weird. 

 

“Hi, Mom,” he says quietly, and her eyes widen. 

 

“Honey! I thought you were resting.”

 

Evan shrugs. “I just needed a change of scenery.” He looks at her pointedly. “You’re all dressed up. Are you going somewhere?”

 

The front door opens and Evan turns to see Seamus in a suit, holding a bouquet of flowers. He looks surprised to see Heidi, too. 

 

“I was going to come and get you from your room,” Seamus says, a little sheepishly. “I just, uh, went to get you flowers-”

 

“They’re lovely,” says Heidi, smiling and heading toward Seamus. “I’ll just… go put them in some water.”

 

Heidi rushes into the kitchen with the flowers, pausing to smell them as she goes, and Evan looks at Seamus, a little taken aback. 

 

Seamus turns bright red. “Good to see you up and about,” he says, a little gruffly. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Confused,” Evan admits. 

 

Seamus looks like he’s about to say something, but Heidi rushes back in and Seamus just looks at her adoringly, and Evan did not even slightly see this coming.

 

“We’re just off to grab some dinner,” Heidi says to Evan. “Be careful and look after yourself. There’s some soup from last night if you want to heat it up and you’ve got my number if you need anything!”

 

She waves at Evan and then heads out the door with Seamus. The door shuts and Evan blinks. 

 

“What the hell?”

 

“Is all okay?”

 

He turns to see Gus at the top of the stairs. Pampushka bounds down the stairs faster than Gus, comes up to Evan and licks his hand. Evan pets the dog affectionately and she curls up by his feet then offers Gus a weak smile as he comes down the stairs and takes a seat on the sofa next to Evan. 

 

“I’m fine,” Evan assures Gus. “I just… your dad and my mom are going out for dinner.”

 

Gus’s eyes light up. “Very good!” he says enthusiastically. “Dad is liking Heidi very much. Connor says he has the heart eyes.”

 

Evan kind of frowns. “I didn’t even know they really spoke that much,” he says. Then again, he really hasn’t been paying much attention to anything outside of his own shit recently. 

 

Christ, he’s a fucking disaster. 

 

Gus’s face softens. “Dad is very good man,” he says, his voice soothing. “He will take good care of your mother. Heidi is very nice lady. I think they are similar. Strong. Able to withstand much pain. Work for things to be better. Protect their family. Is good. Solid for building connection.” He smiles. “I think your mother has good heart. Like her son. Good heart.”

 

Evan wants to cry. He looks at his lap. “You don’t have to be nice to me, Gus.”

 

“I do not say this to be nice,” Gus says seriously. “I say what I believe to be true. You have good heart.” 

 

Evan does start crying at that. As quietly as he can. He hopes Gus won’t comment because he thinks he’ll fall to pieces if Gus tries to say anything right now. Gus instead moves a little so Pampushka can cuddle between them. She leans up and starts licking Evan’s face. Evan kind of snorts at that and wipes his face. 

 

“You’re a good girl,” he says to Pampushka, patting her head. 

 

“She is the best,” Gus says warmly. “Always, she is knowing.” Gus stands up and points to the corner. “I do not know if you have seen, as you do not come down much, but Torpedo is bringing us TV and computer. He shows me how to make it work and I can do the Netflix. Would you like the Netflix? I can bring it here. It has wheels.”

 

Evan nods and Gus gets thing sorted, then sits down and puts something on. Evan doesn’t know exactly what’s going on at first because he’s still a little disoriented, but then Gus smiles broadly and points to the screen. “It is Handsome Funny John.”

 

Evan vaguely recognizes the comedian and settles in as this admittedly attractive guy in a suit starts talking about ghosts. Gus puts the subtitles on, which Evan doesn’t mind, and laughs a lot. It’s nice, being around another human being, and Evan starts to relax. 

 

About halfway through, Connor comes downstairs, and Evan finds himself tensing up because they haven’t really talked since that awkward night in the kitchen when Evan thought he was Gus. Connor doesn’t really say anything but smiles when he sees the screen and kind of ruffles his twin’s hair affectionately. “I see you’re watching Handsome Funny John. Again.”

 

Gus grins. “Still handsome, still funny. Very good.”

 

Evan gets up to move to the other couch, faster than he should have. He’s not prepared for the sharp sting on pain in his abdomen and he winces. Gus looks at him quickly and moves to help him sit down but he shrugs Gus off and sits on the other couch as quickly as he can, ignoring the pain. Connor looks pained but takes Evan’s place on the couch next to his twin. 

 

Pampushka sits next to Evan on the second couch and Gus kind of nods in approval then focuses his attention back on Handsome Funny John. Pampushka is soft and Evan’s still exhausted, so he finds himself drifting off to sleep. 

 

“... fragile in spirit. You must be gentle, Connor.”

 

“I’m trying. It just… it hurts.”

 

Evan’s groggy when he wakes up and overhears the tail end of a conversation between the twins. He opens his eyes and kind of winces. The couch isn’t comfortable for napping on. Not really. 

 

Connor looks at him for a moment, then gets up and leaves the room. 

 

Evan tries not to take it personally. He notices there’s a blanket on him. It’s very, very soft and smells like vanilla. 

 

“You have good rest?” Gus asks, smiling brightly. “It becomes more cold, so I give you blanket.”

 

“It smells good,” Evan kind of mumbles. Gus smiles even bigger. 

 

“Yes, I like the things that smell good. Melody says it is good to have things to focus on that you can… engage with senses.” Gus nods. “Blanket that is soft to touch and nice to smell. Donuts that taste good. Nice music, or the sound of laughter. These are things I like.”

 

Evan nods and tries to sit up, still kind of wincing. Gus notices. “You are okay? Do you need something for pain?” Evan shakes his head and Gus nods. “Okay. Connor has gone to get pizzas for us. Soon we will eat. Is important.”

 

“Sorry I slept through Handsome Funny John,” Evan says apologetically.

 

“Is okay,” Gus says with a shrug. “Another time, we watch Handsome Funny John.” Gus smiles, then his face grows serious. “Evan, I want you to know that if you want, I am still your friend. You said that I hate you, and this is not true. I already said this, I know, but it is on my heart, and I must be sure you understand. I  _ do not _ hate you. I  _ never _ hate you. What happened was… not good, but we did it for Connor. Because we love him. Maybe it was not good choice but it was good reason. The best reason.”

 

Evan really doesn’t have the energy to cry anymore. He just nods and pulls the blanket closer to him. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I know that you are,” says Gus gently. “Connor knows this, also. He still cares, very much. But is hard. There is much healing to be had, yes?”

 

Evan nods. “Yeah.”

 

He sits up a bit more and Gus puts on Adventure Time and tunelessly sings along to the opening theme, and Evan kind of relaxes Connor comes back with a couple of pizzas and there’s a moment where Evan tenses up a bit, but he takes some deep breaths and grabs a piece of pizza. He manages to eat a slice and goes for another one, only for Gus to bring the box closer to him so he doesn’t have to move, which Evan appreciates. 

 

He pointedly doesn’t look at Connor. 

 

He doesn’t know how to deal with Connor. He doesn’t know what to think or feel. There’d been this moment that night in the kitchen where he’d almost thought Connor was going to close the distance between them and kiss him, and he’d had to step away because it’s not something he deserves. 

 

Connor said he never wanted to see Evan again. 

 

But he also said he was glad Evan wasn’t dead. 

 

And he’s willingly in the same room as him now. 

 

Evan doesn’t know what to do, so he just keeps eating pizza. 

 

The pizza’s long gone and they’re halfway through yet another Adventure Time episode when the front door opens and the sound of laughter fills the air. Evan turns a little to see his mom and Seamus coming in, both smiling and looking younger and more carefree. 

 

He likes seeing his mom look happy. 

 

He knows Seamus is a good man. 

 

Still, it’s completely out of the blue, and it just feels weird. 

 

The two if them approach, holding hands and Heidi’s expression gets a little more cautious as she sees the three of them. “How’s it going?” she asks Evan quietly. “You need me to help you upstairs?”

 

Evan shakes his head. “I’m fine.” He gestures to the pizza. “We ate, as you can see.”

 

Heidi smiles softly. “I’m glad.” She leans down and kisses him on the forehead. “You okay?”

 

Evan nods. “I’m okay.”

 

Heidi smiles a bit brighter. “Good. Good, that’s really good.”

 

“We watch Handsome Funny John,” Gus announces to Seamus, hanging over the edge of the sofa to greet his dad. 

 

Seamus chuckles. “Is he still handsome and funny?”

 

“Yes,” Gus says, nodding. “Very much.”

 

“Handsome Funny John?” Heidi asks. 

 

Evan shrugs. Connor doesn’t look at Heidi, but murmurs that the comedian’s name is John Mulaney, and Heidi doesn’t seem to recognize the name but nods anyway. 

 

Heidi and Seamus disappear somewhere and Evan doesn’t want to think about it, so goes back to focusing on Adventure Time. Gus gets up and Pampushka follows, and then it’s just Evan and Connor in the lobby. 

 

“How are you feeling?” Connor asks quietly. Tentatively.

 

“Better,” Evan admits. “I think… I think the medication is helping.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Connor replies. 

 

Evan looks at him, and sees that he’s not wearing his eyepatch. His eye looks a little bruised, but it’s open and seems to be back. 

 

If it weren’t for the bruising, you’d never be able to tell anything had happened at all. 

 

Evan’s heart hurts. 

 

“How are you?” Evan asks. 

 

Connor nods. “Better.” He points at his eye. “This is so fucking weird. I can actually see okay now, which is good. I was so tired of not being able to read properly.”

 

“That must have sucked for you,” Evan says sympathetically. 

 

Connor smiles a little. “Yeah. But I can read now.” He clears his throat. “So I think we’ll be clearing out of here in the next few days.”

 

Evan nods. His mom had said something similar. “Are you heading back to New York?” 

 

Connor shakes his head. “Not right away. I’ve pulled out of class for the semester, but my advisor has been emailing me and it looks like we can put together a plan that’ll have me graduating on time.” He kind of shuffles in his seat. “Gus and Seamus are planning to move nearby, actually.”

 

Evan blinks. “Nearby to Boston? Or to New York?”

 

Connor shrugs. “Boston, I think. New York’s got some bad memories for Gus and Seamus, but if they’re here they’re not too far away, and Melody is here and Gus wants to keep seeing her.” He smiles a little. “Gus is talking about getting his own apartment. Seamus cried when he said he wanted to live on his own. Proud tears, I think, but also… I don’t know, they’re really close.”

 

Evan knows. He’s seen what Seamus would do for Gus. “My mom said she’s got a job offer in Boston as well,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “I, uh, I didn’t know that Seamus and my mom were…”

 

Connor snorts. “Oh my god, Seamus has had a crush on her since she kicked him in the balls.”

 

Evan frowns. “Wait, what? She kicked him in the balls.”

 

“It was before he said the code phrase thing,” Connor says with a shrug. “She thought he was trying to attack her.” Connor looks at Evan, his expression very, very sad. “You never told me you’d given your mom a code phrase. You knew things were going to get dangerous, didn’t you.”

 

Evan nods. “I needed her to be safe.”

 

Connor looks down. “I needed  _ you _ to be safe.”

 

Evan wants, very badly, to ask what he means by that, but Gus and Pampushka come bounding in from the kitchen. Gus has a bottle of Coke and some glasses and looks very freaked out. “Our parents are making out in the kitchen,” he announces, putting the Coke and the glasses on the coffee table next to the empty pizza boxes. 

 

Connor groans. “Oh my god.”

 

“It is making out, yes?” says Gus, still looking mildly concerned. “That is the term. For kissing with tongues. Because there were tongues.” He scrunches up his face, pours a glass of Coke and sits next to Connor. “There are things a son should not see.”

 

Evan can’t help but laugh. He catches Connor’s eye and Connor starts laughing as well. 

 

“Oh my god,” Evan says through his laughter. “That is not a mental image I need.”

 

“You are lucky it is only mental image,” says Gus, clearly still a little weirded out. “I see it in person. With my own eyes. It will scar my memories.”

 

Connor snorts, and Evan starts laughing again, and it almost feels like things might eventually be normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	97. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reed visits their moms.

Things are starting to get back to normal.

 

Well, as normal as things can ever be when you’re part of an illegal human cloning experiment.

 

Reed’s trying to focus on their studies, while also keeping tabs on both Connor and Evan’s recovery at the hotel. It’s nearly April by the time that Christina finally deems both of them healthy enough to do their recovering at home, and Reed thinks it’s probably a good idea for them to not be in such close proximity.

 

As far as they can tell, the two ex-lovers have been avoiding each other as much as possible. Evan’s not in great shape mental health-wise and Connor seems to be taking everyone’s advice to leave him alone, but Reed can tell he’s not thrilled about it.

 

Reed can also tell that Connor regrets some of the things he said to Evan when they broke up. It still breaks Reed’s heart to think about that conversation and the look of utter devastation on both of their faces, and they know that Evan’s not about to forget Connor’s words anytime soon.

 

It’ll be good for them to have some space from each other. Reed’s glad that Heidi will be staying with Evan for a while. They don’t think Evan should be alone. Not while he’s still struggling with suicidal thoughts. The medication and therapy both seem to be helping, and Reed’s glad he’s got the support he needs.

 

Reed doesn’t think they could stand losing Evan. Not after everything they’d been through.

 

It was hard enough when they thought he was dead.

 

Connor’s got the rest of the semester off and he and Gus have been staying in New York while Seamus sorts things out back where he and Gus had been living, which is, apparently, somewhere in Northern Wisconsin. Gus has been looking at apartments in Boston, which Connor is pretty thrilled about, and Reed’s excited as well. It’s going to be nice to have Gus around. They’re looking forward to getting to know Gus a little better, having a chance to be a proper sibling to them.

 

As for Seamus - well, it’s been pretty obvious from day one that he’s smitten with Heidi, and with Gus wanting to move to Boston, it doesn’t surprise Reed at all that Seamus is coming too. Reed knows that Seamus and Gus have been living together for the past three years and that Gus is excited about moving out on his own, but still appreciates that Seamus is going to be nearby.

 

As far as Reed knows, the plan is for Seamus to stay in the hotel over the summer and do some renovations for Renee, who’s apparently looking into converting it into temporary accommodation for the homeless and those in need.

 

Reed wouldn’t be surprised if Seamus ended up moving in with Heidi once the renovations are complete, to be honest. They think the two of them are cute together. They’ve spoken with Evan, Connor and Gus about it, as it’s a little bit weird for them, but the consensus seems to be that if they make each other happy, then that’s all that matters.

 

Evan’s still a little uncomfortable around Seamus, which Reed can understand given what happened with Gus, but he’s told Reed that he’s never seen his mother so happy, so he’s good with it. Connor thinks it’s hilarious, but admits that they seem like a good match, and Gus tells Reed that he likes that they have found love, but he would appreciate not having to see them making out ever again.

 

Reed can’t tell if Heidi and Seamus are constantly all over each other like horny teenagers or if Gus just has terrible timing when it comes to walking into rooms.

 

Reed’s seeing a lot of Chiv, which they’re definitely not mad about. It’s nice to have someone who gets it - all the insanity of the clone situation, all the history. Someone they don’t have to lie to. Chiv’s a pretty straightforward guy and openly says what he wants, which Reed has always appreciated.

 

What Chiv wants usually seems to be Reed naked in his bed, which they’re happy to arrange.

 

It’s a nice distraction from everything.

 

It’s been a while since Reed’s been home. They saw their moms at Christmas and spoke on the phone on their birthday, but they haven’t had a chance to get home and spend some quality time with them for quite a while. So when Momma K calls and asks Reed if they want to come home for the weekend in mid-April, Reed thinks it’s probably a good idea.

 

It’s something normal. Something nice. They’ve missed their moms.

 

In retrospect, they probably should have expected what happened when they arrived back home. They take the bus from school to their hometown, then walk home, and when they arrive, Momma K is drinking a cup of tea at the kitchen table and Momma L is holding a tablet, which she thrusts in Reed’s face dramatically.

 

“Care to explain this?” says Momma L, and Reed has a moment of slight panic as they recognize their own face staring back.

 

It’s the picture of Yorick with his head sliced open.

 

Shit.

 

Momma L takes back the tablet, then swipes to another article, which is yet another ESM article, this time about illegal human cloning.

 

Shit shit shit.

 

“Did you know about this?” she demands.

 

Momma K sighs. “Lilah, sweetheart, that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

 

Momma L throws her hands up in the air. “Kat. Oh my god. Human. Cloning. Illegal. Human. Cloning.” She crosses her arms. “You were the one who said I had to wait to talk to Reed in person about this. Well, here I am. Talking to them in person.” She fixes Reed with a firm look, the one that had them spilling all their secrets when they were a kid, and unfortunately, it still works now.

 

“I knew,” they say quietly. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

 

“It’s all over the news,” Momma L continues, kind of pacing frantically. “Human cloning. Illegal experiments. Some of the stuff this DYAD Institute is working on… it’s completely outside the realm of acceptable science. Completely! And then I see this face I know and they’re talking about human cloning and… it all makes sense. My child. My child is a clone. Oh, and let’s not forget that my child is also doing an internship with this DYAD Institute. And I had no idea! What kind of parent am I?”

 

“Momma,” says Reed, a little desperately. “Momma, it’s okay.”

 

“It’s not okay!”

 

“Lilah, sweetheart,” says Momma K, her voice soothing. “We can have a conversation about this.” She sighs and looks at Reed. “Reed, how long have you known?”

 

Reed sighs. “I’ve known about the clones since high school,” they say, sitting down at the kitchen table next to Momma K. “Remember when I won that national science award? My face was in the paper, and one of the clones in New York found me through it.”

 

Momma L’s eyes widen. “Reed, you were fifteen when you won that. You’ve known since you were fifteen?”

 

“Sixteen,” Reed corrects quietly. “Ben found me when I was sixteen. Then I met… others. We’ve… we’ve known each other for a while, but we didn’t think it was safe to tell anyone.” Reed frowns and looks at his mothers, who are both pale and serious. Momma L looks like she’s about to cry, which Reed knows is going to make her angry, because Momma L hates crying. Well, she hates it when _she_ cries - she’s not uncomfortable with emotion with other people (which is good because Momma K believes in the power of a good cathartic cry) but Momma L doesn’t like looking weak.

 

Momma K, however, just looks worried and a little sad. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that on your own for so long,” she says.  

 

“I’m going to sue the IVF clinic,” says Momma L, sniffing a little. “It was unethical. It was completely unethical to impregnate Kat with a clone without her consent.”

 

Momma K sighs. “Lilah. I understand that you’re angry. I’m not thrilled either. But… look at our kid. They’re amazing.” She smiles at Reed. “You’re still our child and the best damn thing to ever happen to us. Even if it turns out that the IVF clinic wasn’t honest with us.”

 

“Of course Reed is still our child!” says Momma L heatedly. “But it doesn’t make what they did okay. What if something had gone wrong? You didn’t know. You didn’t give consent. It was an experiment. What if there had been a problem? What if carrying a cloned embryo had had adverse effects on you? It’s completely uncharted territory and so much could have gone wrong. Pregnancy is terrifying enough as it is, there’s so much that can go wrong. Believe me, I know. I’ve seen it!” She’s crying now, and Reed can tell that she really, really doesn’t want to be. “I could have lost you, Kat.”

 

“But you didn’t,” says Momma K, as gently as possible. “And we got _Reed_.” She smiles at Reed again. “You may be a clone, but that doesn’t matter. You’re our kid. We love you.”

 

“Of course we love you,” says Momma L, wiping her face. “It’s just… we didn’t know. We should have known.”

 

Reed stands up and gives Momma L a hug. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she says firmly, hugging him back. “But I’m suing the IVF clinic and I’m giving those bastards at the DYAD Institute a piece of my mind.”

 

“Good luck with that,” says Momma K. She stands up and disappears into the kitchen, then comes back with a plate of brownies. “From what I hear, the DYAD Institute doesn’t exist anymore.” She holds the plate out to Reed. “Brownie?”

 

“We’re finishing this conversation before the two of you get stoned!” says Momma L firmly. She looks back at Reed and sighs. “Sweetheart, I wish you’d have told us.”

 

“How was that conversation supposed to go, Lilah?” Momma K asks, putting the plate of still warm brownies on the kitchen table. “I’ve read all the articles that you have. From all accounts, this DYAD organization is dangerous. Reed did what they needed to do to keep themself safe, and keep us safe.” She smiles a little at her wife. “I love you, but you’re not exactly the kind of person to let things go. You’d have stormed the DYAD Institute and gotten yourself killed demanding an explanation.”

 

Momma L crosses her arms in front of her chest. She does not look happy, but she also doesn’t look like she completely disagrees with Momma K. Reed sighs. “Momma, I’m sorry.”

 

Her face softens and she pulls Reed into a hug. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry you had to go through this alone. I love you and I’m so glad that we have you, I just… everything I’ve read about this organization is terrifying, and I don’t love that you’ve been caught up in it.” She pulls back and looks at Reed, her expression fond. “I did always know you were special.”

 

“Even if you’re a clone, you’re still an individual,” says Momma K, reaching for a brownie. “You’re still you. Our unique child. And we love you.”

 

Reed reaches for a brownie themself, pausing to look at Momma L first. Momma L sighs, then nods, and Reed grabs a brownie and takes a bite.

 

“Do you have a shift tonight?” Reed asks Momma L.

 

“Nope,” she replies. After a moment’s hesitation, she takes a brownie. “What the hell.”

 

Reed smiles. It’s not often that Momma L decides to get stoned with them and Momma K, but it’s always a fun occasion. The three of them eat two brownies each, then settle down in the living room where Momma K puts on some vinyl and they just hang out for a bit.

 

Everyone’s starting to mellow when Momma L stands up and dramatically announces that she wants to see a clone.

 

Reed blinks. “What?”

 

“I want to meet a clone,” she repeats. “You’ve known you’re a clone since high school. I want to meet a clone.”

 

Reed cracks up laughing. “Oh my god. Uh, okay.”

 

They pull out their clone phone.

 

Group chat: **pinkpunk** , **torpeedo** , **emochilds** , **soccer_guy**

 

 **pinkpunk** : so

 **pinkpunk** : my moms saw the picture of yorick

 **pinkpunk** : and the article about cloning

 **pinkpunk** : put 2 n 2 together

 **pinkpunk** : long story short

 **pinkpunk** : momma l wants to meet a clone

 **pinkpunk** : any1 wanna come visit?

 **pinkpunk** : also were high

 **soccer_guy** : omg

 **soccer_guy** : im not getting high with your moms reed

 **torpeedo** : omg

 **torpeedo** : im so keen to get high with ur moms reed

 **torpeedo** : connors at mine

 **torpeedo** : gus went to help seamus pack 4 the move

 **torpeedo** : txt us address

 **torpeedo** : were on our way

 **soccer_guy** : omg

 **soccer_guy** : please keep me updated

 **soccer_guy** : (this is Donna btw I’ve taken Lucas’s phone hostage)

 **soccer_guy** : he says it’s a terrible idea

 **soccer_guy** : i want pictures

 **soccer_guy** : all the pictures

 

Reed smiles. “Okay, so Torpedo and Connor are on their way. They’ll be, like, an hour maybe?”

 

Momma K’s eyes light up. “Wait, Connor’s a clone? He’s the one who lives in New York, right? You went to stay with him in high school.”

 

“That’s right,” says Momma L, frowning a little. “You said he wasn’t doing too well. Was it… did something dangerous happen?”

 

“It’s a long story,” says Reed. They text Torpedo the address and launch into a somewhat edited and condensed version of their history with their clones, to the utter astonishment of their moms.

 

Reed’s busy explaining to Momma L the research behind the clone illness when there’s a knock on the door. Momma K’s on her feet in seconds, and moments later she’s ushering a slightly startled looking Torpedo and Connor into the living room and handing them the plate of brownies.

 

“Eat!” she says encouragingly. “It’s so good to meet you both.”

 

Connor takes a bite of a brownie and grins. “You have no idea how many of your brownies I’ve eaten over the years,” he confesses. “Half the time Reed forgets to tell me there’s weed in them. They’re so useless, oh my god.”

 

Reed grins a little sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m not great at telling people there are drugs in their food.”

 

“Evan got to the stage where he’d just assume that anything you offered him food or drink wise had pot in it,” Connor says with a snort.

 

“Oh, Evan’s your friend from school!” says Momma K, as if remembering. “Is he a clone as well?”

 

“No,” Reed says, a little awkwardly. “He’s, uh…”

 

“Evan’s my ex,” says Connor, not looking Reed in the eye.

 

“I’m sorry,” says Momma K, frowning a little. “Have another brownie.”

 

Reed picks up where they left off with the explanation of the clone illness and its cure. Torpedo occasionally interjects with information about Ivy and Hannah and every now and then, Connor makes a comment about Evan’s part in all of it.

 

Connor makes a lot of comments about Evan, Reed notices. From the look on her face, Reed can tell that Momma K’s noticed as well. Before Reed can say anything, she speaks up.

 

“You’re talking about Evan a lot. Sounds to me like you’re still in love with him,” says Momma K to Connor.

 

Connor goes bright pink and takes another brownie. “It’s complicated.”

 

Momma K snorts. “Doesn’t have to be. Do you love him?”

 

“He’s not wrong about it being complicated,” says Torpedo gently. “There’s… it’s a lot.”

 

Momma K rolls her eyes. “There’s always something. There’s always a challenge, or an obstacle, or something. All the great love stories have them. But if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”

 

“Kat’s a romantic,” says Momma L with a smile. “It’s infuriating.”

 

Momma K grabs another brownie and smirks. “Hey, I landed you, didn’t I?”

 

Momma L laughs and leans in to kiss her. “You were, and continue to be, exceptionally inconvenient, my love.” She turns to the clones and laughs again. “I met this one at the hospital and she starts talking about love at first sight, and… I didn’t have time for that. I wanted to focus on my career. But she gave me her number, and she sent me flowers, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her, so I asked her out and the rest, as they say, is history.”

 

“I knew you were it for me from the moment I laid eyes on you,” says Momma K, looking at Momma L adoringly.

 

“Gross,” mutters Torpedo good-naturedly, taking another brownie.

 

“Don’t know if I believe in love at first sight,” says Connor, a little wistfully. “I knew Evan for years before I really knew him.” He frowns. “It’s hard. A lot has happened.”

 

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out,” says Momma K decisively.

 

Momma L laughs. “That’s hippy bullshit. If you want it to work, you’ll make it work. Focus on work.”

 

“I’m hard work,” says Momma K cheerfully. “But Lilah’s never been afraid of hard work. She’s a doctor, for fuck’s sake.”

 

They kiss and Torpedo cracks up laughing. “Reed, your moms are _gross_.”

 

The conversation moves on to other things as the day progresses, and they’re all blissfully stoned listening to Fleetwood Mac, and it’s hazy and soft and relaxing. But every now and then, Reed looks at Connor and sees that he’s lost in thought, miles and miles away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :) 
> 
> Only three chapters left! Thanks for sticking with me, guys. I love you all.


	98. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pie and Twister with the Winterbottoms.

It’s been a while since Lucas has seen Donna’s family. He’s been trotted out to a few alumni events for his college with his father, so he’s seen a fair bit of his parents, who Lucas still doesn’t think have quite forgiven him for proposing to Donna.

 

“I just don’t think she’ll be able to handle the demands of your lifestyle once you’re a partner in a firm,” his mother had said the last time he saw her, completely out of the blue. “There’s a certain level of support required. She’s a lovely girl, but is she really right for you?”

 

Which he thinks is completely insane, because Donna’s the best thing to ever happen to him, and if his parents don’t understand that, they can go fuck themselves.

 

It’s the same conversation they’ve been having for years now, and Lucas has almost gotten to the stage where he can shrug it off. Almost. The major difference now is that he’s gotten access to his trust fund, so even if they do decide to cut him off, he’s got enough money to live comfortably for a while.

 

He’s spent his whole life trying to please his parents but he thinks it might be nigh-on impossible. And to be completely honest, their bullshit is getting old, especially when compared to some of the horrors that the DYAD Institute had put Clone Club through.

 

His parents hadn’t even known he was sick.

 

If they hadn’t found a cure for the clone illness, he could have just… died and his parents wouldn’t have even known.

 

Lucas has spent a lot of time trying to please his parents. Especially his dad. It had all seemed so important that his parents be proud of him. Be proud of his choices and his life and think he’s successful. It was important that he didn’t disappoint them.

 

It all seems a lot less important now.

 

He thinks back to that harrowing weekend in the hotel and seeing Connor with an empty socket where his eye should be. Seeing Connor’s sister covered in blood.

 

Sitting in the kitchen with Heidi Hansen, who thought her son was dead. Seeing Evan pale and bruised and barely breathing, knowing the risk he’d taken with his own life.

 

Connor was tortured. Gus was tortured. Torpedo had been getting sicker and sicker, right in front of their eyes.

 

Things like worrying that he’d worn the wrong tie to one of his mother’s dinner parties don’t really seem to matter at all now.

 

Lucas isn’t going to dramatically tell his parents that he’s marrying Donna no matter what they think and fuck them if they don’t agree.

 

He’s not Connor.

 

He’s just going to smile and nod and marry her, no matter what they think.

 

They might be angry.

 

They might cut him off.

 

They might decide he’s not worthy of being their son.

 

He doesn’t think it matters. Not anymore.

 

Lucas has a family. It’s weird and it’s loud and it’s full of people who have the same face as him, but it’s a family.

 

And they care about him. They care about what makes him happy.

 

Reed thinks Donna’s great and they like that she makes Lucas happy. Connor and Donna have some kind of weird in-joke about their forbidden love which never ceases to crack Donna up, so Lucas is pretty sure that’s approval. Whenever Lucas talks to Gus (which is admittedly not often but more common these days), he always asks after Donna. Torpedo says they’re gross and affectionate and that Donna is the most competitive Connect Four player he’s ever seen.

 

Lucas doesn’t need his parents' approval when it comes to Donna. His family has welcomed her with open arms.

 

And her family has welcomed him. They’ve always been kind, the entire time Lucas has known them, and he always feels welcome and safe in the Winterbottom house. At the beginning of May, they finally get a chance to spend some time with the family. Donna and Lucas head to Donna’s parents' house for lunch with a solid game plan.

 

“Do _not_ let my mother talk you into dessert,” Donna says for the third time as they pull into the Winterbottom parents’ driveway. “We’re meeting Connor and Gus for coffee at 4, we cannot be here for hours like we normally are.”

 

Connor’s helping Gus move into his new apartment for the morning, and then they’re meeting Lucas and Donna halfway for coffee. And probably cake, if Gus has anything to say about it.

 

Gus really, really likes cake.

 

Mary Louise gives Lucas a big hug when she sees him that seems tighter than usual, and Lucas isn’t really sure why, but he returns it and takes a seat in the living room. The triplets are busy playing dolls on the floor. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on, but from some of the things the girls are saying, he thinks there might be a military coup involved in the story.

 

Donna’s brother Daniel smiles at Lucas but looks a little uncomfortable, and Lucas feels like something super weird is going on. His wife Denise looks equally uncomfortable. Donna shoots Lucas a look, and he just shrugs.

 

Then one of the triplets pipes up. “We saw Uncle Lucas on TV!”

 

Daniel shoots his daughter a warning look. “Sally.”

 

“We did!” exclaims another one. “We did! And we could see his _brain_.”

 

The room goes deadly quiet.

 

Lucas’s heart plummets into his shoes.

 

No.

 

No, he’s not ready for this.

 

He’s not ready for this family he’s known for seven years to think he’s a freak.

 

An experiment.

 

Less than human.

 

“It wasn’t Uncle Lucas,” says Donna, her voice calm. “It was someone who looked like Uncle Lucas, that’s all. See? Here he is. Can you see his brain now, Yvette?”

 

Yvette giggles. “No, silly. It’s under his hair.”

 

“I looked into this DYAD Institute,” says Daniel, his voice a little hesitant. “It said something about… human cloning.”

 

“Well, that just sounds like science-fiction,” says Lucas, as fast as he can.

 

“That poor boy looked just like you,” says Mary Louise, her voice very sad. “Exactly like you.”

 

Donna looks at Lucas, clearly hesitant. She takes his hand and looks at her family. “Lucas is Lucas,” she says firmly. “Just Lucas.”

 

“Is he a clone?” Denise asks. Her voice is frank, but not unkind.

 

Lucas looks at Donna, whose face softens. “Doesn’t matter,” she says quietly. “He’s the love of my life.”

 

“Of course Lucas is Lucas,” says Mary Louise decisively. “Even if he is a… clone, as silly as that sounds to say.” She leans in and Lucas can see that she actually looks… excited. “I am awfully curious, though. Do you know other ones?”

 

“Yes,” says Donna immediately, her face curling into a smile. “It’s kind of a trip.”

 

“How many of you are there?” asks Daniel, clearly a little bit unsettled.

 

“There’s just one of me,” Lucas says. “Just one.”

 

“They’re all just people,” Donna says firmly. “Sure, they look alike, but they look alike the way the triplets look alike. They’re still individuals. They’re still people.”

 

“I didn’t say they weren’t,” says Daniel defensively. “It’s just… it’s kind of hard to get my head around, that’s all.” He looks at Lucas and something in his face shifts. “You’re still going to be my brother in law. That’s not going to change. It’s just weird to think about so many people running around looking like you.”

 

“I’d love to meet some of the others,” says Mary Louise, her voice getting more and more animated. “What are they like? Are they like Lucas? Or are they completely different people?”

 

“There’s no one like Lucas,” says Donna, squeezing his hand. Lucas squeezes it back.

 

He doesn’t deserve this incredible woman.

 

“You’ll have to introduce us sometime,” says Mary Louise with a smile.

 

Donna looks at Lucas and her eyes light up. Lucas shakes his head. “No. No, absolutely not.”

 

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

 

“No. A million times no.”

 

“Are there some nearby?” Mary Louise asks eagerly. “Could we meet them today?”

 

Lucas sighs.

 

* * *

 

Gus is really excited about his new apartment, and his enthusiasm is kind of adorable. It’s been a busy morning getting everything sorted, and Pampushka is sitting on Connor’s lap demanding attention as he sits on the edge of Gus’s new bed while Gus puts up his artwork.

 

“Look, Pampushka,” says Gus enthusiastically as he hangs up a drawing of a dozen donuts, “it is your namesake.”

 

Pampushka barks happily. Gus pulls another painting out of his box and frowns at it a little. “It’s in the wrong box,” he says thoughtfully. “This is one I paint for Dad.”

 

“I’ll put it in the pile,” says Connor, picking up the painting and looking at it. He can’t help but smile. He remembers this one. Gus was working on it over the last summer they spent together, and it’s turned out better than he could ever have imagined.

 

It’s a reproduction of one of the first photos of the two of them, back when Pampushka was just a puppy. They’re eighteen, with much shorter hair than they have now. Connor’s in a hoodie and skinny jeans and Gus is in sweatpants and a soft flannel shirt. They're both smiling. 

 

They hadn’t known each other long then.

 

Connor can’t imagine not knowing Gus now.

 

“It is almost time for us to go to Heidi for lunch,” says Gus, looking at his phone. “We will take the pile for Dad, yes?”

 

“Sounds good,” says Connor, trying to ignore the panic welling up in his stomach. He’s weirdly nervous about going to Heidi’s new place for lunch.

 

Evan’s going to be there.

 

He hasn’t seen Evan since they left the hotel. Hasn’t spoken to him, hasn’t heard from him at all. But Seamus and Heidi are still going strong, and Heidi’s been passing on updates as to how Evan’s going.

 

From all accounts, Evan’s doing better than he has been. He’s been seeing Melody regularly, he’s gotten used to his medication and while he’s not 100% healed from his gunshot wound, he’s well on his way to making a full recovery, which Connor’s insanely relieved about.

 

Heidi doesn’t say a lot about Evan directly to Connor, which is fair enough. Gus has had coffee with Evan a couple of times, but flat out refuses to tell Connor what they’d talked about, which is incredibly frustrating but also fair enough.

 

Part of Connor still really, really wants to hate Evan for what he put Gus through. For the whole stupid swap that got his twin tortured and his mother murdered. But Gus doesn’t blame Evan. Gus doesn’t blame Evan. Every time Connor thinks about what happened and feels like his lungs are burning and he wants to scream at the top of his lungs, the thought hits him that Gus doesn’t blame Evan, and it’s like someone’s thrown a bucket of ice water on him.

 

Gus has every right to hate Evan and never want to speak to him again.

 

But he doesn’t.

 

Connor can’t help but remember Gus’s words.

 

_There is no 'should' in forgiveness._

 

It doesn’t help that Connor misses literally every tiny thing about Evan.

 

And that the sound of Evan’s screaming still haunts him.

 

He wants his Evan back and he hates DYAD for what they twisted him into and he knows that Evan knows he made mistakes and he knows that Evan can do better.

 

Can _be_ better.

 

Evan’s got a good heart.

 

He’s made mistakes, but he’s still a good person.

 

And Connor’s still very much in love.

 

When they get to Heidi’s, she greets Gus with a hug and Connor with a smile, which Connor’s kind of expecting. Heidi’s still not a hundred percent comfortable around Connor, which he can kind of understand. She’s not mean or unnecessarily cruel, she’s just Evan’s mom. Which means she’s Team Evan, every time, no matter what.

 

Connor’s kind of grateful. Someone’s got to be on Evan’s team.

 

Heidi’s new place isn’t huge but it’s homey. It’s bigger than Evan’s apartment and not far from it, Connor realizes with a pang. Pampushka makes her way into the living room and heads straight for Evan, nuzzling at his leg, and Evan smiles. Connor’s heart twists inside his chest a little.

 

Evan hasn’t seen him yet and is busy making a fuss over the dog. He’s lost some weight, Connor notices, and can’t help but worry that he’s not eating properly. He’s still got a beard, but it’s trimmed neatly, and he looks tired but relaxed.

 

Then he spots Connor, and immediately tenses up, and Connor feels like shit.

 

“Hey,” says Connor quietly.

 

“Hey,” Evan replies, equally as quiet. He gestures to Connor’s face. “Your eye is back.”

 

Connor nods. “Yeah. It’s kind of freaky.”

 

“Is good that eye has grown back,” says Gus from behind Connor as he makes his way to sit down on the couch next to Evan. “Now Connor will stop complaining.” He pulls Evan into a hug, and Evan still looks a little tense but smiles at Connor’s twin. “Is good to see you, Evan.”

 

“Good to see you, too,” Evan replies, relaxing a little bit.

 

But just a little bit.

 

Seamus shows up with some pizzas and they dig in. Connor notices that Evan’s not eating much, and so does Heidi, who quietly loads Evan’s plate with another piece, which Connor’s pleased to see. Gus and Heidi seem to be holding the bulk of the conversation, with Gus asking questions about Heidi’s new job and Heidi asking questions about Gus’s dog grooming business. Gus’s apartment is a decent way away from where Heidi and Evan are based, in a slightly more suburban area, which makes sense because Gus has been living in a pretty rural area for a while. He tells the group he’s had fliers made up and he and Pampushka will explore the neighborhood and hand them out over the coming weeks.

 

Connor is really fucking proud of Gus.

 

Seamus is talking about Renee’s plan for the hotel when Connor’s clone phone rings. He answers it without looking at the caller and heads into the kitchen for some privacy. “Hello?”

 

“Hey Connor, it’s Donna.”

 

“Oh hey,” says Connor, looking at his watch. “Aren’t we supposed to be meeting you at 4? Everything okay?”

 

“It’s fine,” says Donna, her voice overly bright. “How do you feel about pie?”

 

When the call is over, Connor goes back into the living room and looks at Gus. “Donna’s family figured out the clone thing,” he says. “Donna’s mom wants you and me to come around for dessert, Gus.”

 

Gus’s eyes light up. “Desserts? I like desserts. What is for dessert?”

 

“Donna’s family figured out the clone thing?” Evan repeats, a little alarmed. “And their response is to invite you around for dessert?”

 

Connor shrugs. “I mean, when Donna found out about the clones, she was pretty chill. I’m not surprised her mom wants to feed us pie.”

 

“There is pie!” Gus exclaims. “Very good!” He smiles at Connor. “Is okay if I bring Pampushka? There is no problems with dog?”

 

“Donna’s sister-in-law is allergic, but she’s going to get some antihistamines and deal with it for the afternoon,” Connor explains. “Donna has triplet nieces who were apparently promised a puppy for Christmas but when they went to the rescue, they found out Denise was allergic, so that put a damper on things. Donna said, and I quote, ‘the girls are going to lose their tiny minds over Pampushka’.”

 

“We will go get the pie now?” Gus says, standing up. Heidi cracks up laughing.

 

“They said to come whenever, so I guess,” says Connor, looking at Seamus and Heidi, who both nod.

 

Connor can’t bring himself to look at Evan as they leave, even though he wants to.

 

They pile into Gus’s van and drive to Connecticut. Connor keeps thinking about Evan tensing up when he arrived and it hurts. Gus seems to notice, so plugs his iPod into the aux cable and starts playing Carly Rae Jepsen loudly through the tinny speakers of his van then starts singing along, which is an excellent distraction.

 

When they pull into Donna’s parents’ driveway, Connor’s this close to throwing Gus’s iPod out the fucking window.

 

“ _I really really really really really really like you,_ ” Gus sings tunelessly as they get out of the van and head to the front door.

 

“Please stop.”

 

Gus laughs, then slings his arm over Connor’s shoulder. “We must have karaoke with Donna another time. I will sing Carly Rae. And you will wear the earplugs.”

 

Donna opens the door almost immediately and pulls them both into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!” she says, gesturing for them to come inside. Pampushka follows them as they head down the hall and into a dining room, where a short middle-aged woman is busy putting a truly ridiculous number of pies on the table.

 

Connor sees Gus’s eyes light up at the sight of them. He has to admit that the whole place smells like heaven.

 

“Mom, this is Connor and Gus,” says Donna with a smile. “They’re actually twins as well as being Lucas’s clones.”

 

Lucas approaches, and Connor can see that he’s a little overwhelmed by what’s going on. Gus pulls Lucas into a hug, and once he lets go, Connor kind of pats Lucas’s shoulder. “You doing alright?” Connor asks quietly.

 

Lucas nods, still looking a bit shell-shocked. “I just… didn’t expect this.”

 

Connor shrugs. “At least we knew about the whole clone thing,” he says. “Could you imagine not knowing about it and seeing that picture of Yorick? That’s got to be terrifying.”

 

“I am talking to Beanpole of this,” says Gus with a nod. “There are plans to find others. Put minds at ease. Also to make them well, now that cure has been found. I think this is very good. But we must be gentle. Is not easy.”

 

“No,” Lucas agrees. “It’s not.”

 

Three identical little girls come running in and make a beeline for Pampushka. Gus grins and kneels down so he’s not towering over them. “Hello,” he says, his voice soft. “This is Pampushka. She is very good girl. Would you like to pet her? Is okay, but we must be gentle.”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Connor looks up to see a man and a woman, probably no more than a few years older than him, looking straight at him in astonishment. He waves a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

 

“Daddy said a bad word!” says one of the triplets.

 

Gus laughs. “I think he is surprised! But you are right, it is a bad word.”

 

“You look like Uncle Lucas,” says another triplet. She points to Connor. “So does he. Uncle Lucas is just like us!”

 

Lucas looks a little taken aback but then looks at the three identical little girls and his two clones, then at the woman, who just shrugs.

 

“They’re four,” she says frankly. “I’m not about to explain illegal human cloning to them. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

 

“I am looking like your Uncle Lucas, yes,” says Gus to the girls. “But I am different. I am Gus, and this is Connor.” He gestures to Connor, who again, waves awkwardly. “Same face, but different people. Like you! What are your names?”

 

“I’m Sally, she’s Claudia and she’s Yvette,” says one of the triplets, gesturing between her sisters. “Why does Uncle Lucas have short hair?”

 

Gus laughs. “I do not know this. You must ask your Uncle Lucas.”

 

Connor’s introduced to the rest of Donna’s family and it’s a bit of a blur, but soon they all sit down for pie and ice cream. The triplets all argue over who gets to sit next to Gus, and Gus manages to find a compromise where he sits between two of the triplets and the third sits right across from him so they can make funny faces.

 

They get to know each other a little. Donna’s brother Daniel is a plumber, and his wife Denise works as a graphic designer part-time. They share looking after the girls around their workloads and Mary Louise looks after them at times they’re both busy. Donna’s dad William is a quiet, unassuming kind of guy who seems utterly unruffled by the fact that he’s just found out about illegal human cloning. Mary Louise keeps offering Gus more pie, and Gus just keeps eating, while enthusiastically telling Mary Louise that this is the best dessert he’d ever eaten.

 

After dessert, Gus plays a game of Twister with the triplets while Pampushka supervises, and Donna and Lucas chat quietly with Connor and the rest of Donna’s family about plans for their engagement party.

 

“It’ll be a bit hard to explain all the identical faces,” says Mary Louise with a tone of regret, “but what say we have a family dinner sometime to celebrate, Lucas? We can invite all of your brothers. I’ll be sure to make plenty of pie for Gus.”

 

“Very good!” Gus exclaims from the Twister mat, where he’s pretty much entirely upside down.

 

“Do your parents know?” asks William curiously. “I can’t see them taking it particularly well, I’m afraid.”

 

“If they do, they haven’t said anything,” says Lucas. Connor can tell his clone is sad and a little frustrated. “I mean, I don’t necessarily want to have that conversation with them, but… it’s been all over the news and they haven’t noticed. It’s… I mean, it’s probably just as well.”

 

“Your parents are dicks,” says Connor frankly. Lucas kind of glares at Connor but William Winterbottom starts laughing heartily.

 

“Well put, Connor.” William smiles. “As far as we’re concerned, Lucas has been family for a long time. And any family of his is welcome here.”

 

“It’s a bit unusual,” says Mary Louise, her tone fond as she watches Gus and the triplets play Twister, “but there’s nothing wrong with a bit of unusual every now and then.”

 

Connor sees Lucas and Donna smile at each other and can’t help but smile, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	99. NOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gus warms his house.

Evan’s surprised to get a phone call from Charles at the beginning on June. He doesn’t say much except that he wants to meet face to face and gives Evan the address for a building downtown. It’s far enough away from the ruins of DYAD to not be too difficult.

 

Evan’s been avoiding that part of town ever since the night he went in to get Gus out, which is frustrating because there’s a Thai place around the corner he really likes. Melody says that he’ll get there eventually, but to not beat himself up too much about it at the moment.

 

He’s got plenty of other things to beat himself up about. Being too scared to order Thai food doesn’t even make the list.

 

As he drives to the location Charles has provided, Evan thinks to himself that maybe he’s not giving himself enough credit. He’s doing okay, all things considered. He can leave the house without freaking out now. He’s been out for drinks with Reed and Chiv a couple of times, and they haven’t been big nights but they’ve been fun. He’s gone for a walk with Gus and Pampushka, helping hand out fliers for Gus’s dog grooming business.

 

He’s having fewer nightmares. His stomach still twinges on occasion, but he’s healing well.

 

Evan can finally handle being in the same room as Connor without tensing up.

 

He’d just figured that once they left the hotel, that would be it. He wouldn’t see Connor ever again. Connor had made his feelings crystal clear - he never wanted to see Evan again. Right?

 

Except… that’s not strictly true. Because Evan can’t seem to escape running into Connor.

 

Evan went to visit Reed a few weeks back and Connor was there on their couch, and Evan tried to leave but Reed just ushered him in for a hug and offered him samosas. He’d stayed for maybe twenty minutes, trying not to look at Connor, who was obviously slightly stoned and kept looking at him, cheeks a little pink. It got to the stage where Evan couldn’t handle it anymore and Evan tried to make a graceful exit, only for Connor to offer him a samosa for the road.

 

Connor had put the samosa in a napkin and put the napkin in Evan’s hand and then kind of just… held his hand for a while, and it had been weird and awkward and Evan could tell he was going bright red and he basically just ran out of Reed’s apartment.

 

Gus had asked Evan if he’d look after Pampushka for the afternoon as Gus took his first client, a chihuahua who was apparently a little uneasy around big dogs. Evan had taken Pampushka for a leisurely walk and when he let himself back into Gus’s apartment with the key he’d been given for the day, he once again ran into Connor, lounging on Gus’s way too comfortable couch reading a book.

 

Evan had bailed then. Left the key on the coffee table, mumbled something about Pampushka liking Connor better anyway, then left the dog in the apartment before Connor could say anything.

 

Probably not the most mature way to handle things, but…

 

For someone who said they never wanted to see him again, Connor’s sure around a lot.

 

When he gets to the building, he heads inside and finds a woman sitting at the front desk. She smiles. “You must be Evan,” she says, standing up to shake his hand. “I’m Tina, let me show you to Charles’s office. Excuse the mess, we’re just getting sorted.”

 

Evan looks around in astonishment as they walk down a corridor, past rooms with wooden doors. The whole place feels old-fashioned like it was built in the sixties, but it’s got personality and is a huge contrast to the clinical, overly fancy DYAD building. It doesn’t take long to get to a door that literally has a piece of masking tape on it and the words ‘Charles’s Office’ written in marker. It’s open, and Tina knocks on it anyway and ushers Evan in.

 

Charles is busy unpacking books into a large bookshelf and smiles at Evan when he sees him. “Take a seat if you want,” he says, pointing to a comfy looking couch on the other side of the room. Evan does, and Charles puts a bulky looking textbook into the top shelf, then sits in an armchair across from Evan and looks at him intently.

 

Charles looks good. Less tired than the last time Evan saw him, and much less stressed. “How’s it going?” Evan asks.

 

“We’re getting there,” he says with a smile. “How are you? I’m glad to see you up and about.” His face softens. “You gave us all a bit of a fright.”

 

Evan ignores the churning of guilt in his stomach and focuses on the task at hand. He’s trying really, really hard not to let the guilt each him up from the inside. “I’m feeling a lot better,” he says honestly. He gestures to the room. “So this is your office, huh? What’s going on.”

 

Charles grins. “Big things,” he says enthusiastically. “Like I said - we’re rebuilding from the ashes of DYAD. It’s not going to be easy. We don’t have anywhere near the astronomical resources that DYAD had, but we’re not doing badly for ourselves. We have investors who support our cause and members all around the world.” He looks at Evan pointedly. “I just need the right people on board here. I’ll get straight to the point. I’m here to offer you a job.”

 

Evan just blinks at him. “No offense, but a job offer is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

 

Charles chuckles a little, but looks sympathetic. “I know. I know it’s been… well, it’s been a right mess, and you’ve got every right to tell me to shove it, but I honestly believe that you’ve got a brilliant scientific mind and would be a huge asset.” He looks at Evan and kind of leans in a little. “We’ll start small. You set the pace. You want to come in for a few hours a week, that’s fine. You decide what you need. If you want to go back to school in September, we can work around that.”

 

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” Evan admits, not quite able to meet Charles’s gaze. “I’m… I’m working really hard on being okay, you know? I do want to go back to school, but I’m playing it by ear. And even if I do go back, I don’t even know what I want to do now.” He chuckles a little. “I started doing environmental science, then got thrown into genetics research, completely out of my depth, and… I can’t even think about that now. Not really.”

 

“You don’t have to decide now,” says Charles firmly. “But I wanted to show you around what we’re building here and let you know there’s a place for you. At the very least, I’d welcome your help in setting things up. You’ve probably got some ideas about what would work for lab spaces based on your time at DYAD.”

 

“So you’re staying in Boston?” asks Evan, a little surprised. “What about Cambridge?”

 

“I’m taking at least a year off,” says Charles. “If not two. I’ve made a commitment to getting things started. We wanted to move quickly.” He smiles broadly. “We’re calling this new organization the ERAS Centre. Ethical Research and Science. Not the most elegant or inspired, but at least it’s easy to say.” He shrugs. “Plus, Cambridge isn’t going anywhere. To my knowledge.”

 

Evan takes this in. “It’ll be good to have you nearby.”

 

Charles laughs. “Reed helped me find an apartment, actually. Connor and Gus helped me move in and Jenny and Torpedo dropped off chocolate chip cookies for a housewarming gift.”

 

Evan snorts. “I’m surprised Reed’s mom didn’t send brownies.”

 

“Oh, I’ve been warned,” says Charles with a chuckle. “I must admit it’s not quite my scene. I feel like a right fuddy-duddy compared to my clones sometimes. They must think I’m rather ridiculous.”

 

“The thing I’ve found about Clone Club,” says Evan, feeling a little pang as he does, “is that they’re pretty accepting of the differences between them. I don’t think they’d treat you any differently.”

 

Something wistful passes over Charles’s face. “I’ve spent time with clones before,” he says thoughtfully. “When I was sixteen and seventeen, I knew quite a few. We banded together in fear and got to know each other rather well, but we didn’t have the bond that this group does. We were just… people with the same face. It wasn’t the same. But they’ve welcomed me into their family, and I…” Charles trails off, clears his throat and looks a little embarrassed. “Well, it means a lot to me.”

 

Evan thinks back to the weekend at the lake house when the clones turned twenty-one.

 

Studying with Reed. Playing Monopoly with Lucas. Gus and his donuts. Torpedo and his good-natured ribbing about all the couples he was forced to spend time with. Donna and her karaoke machine.

 

And Connor.

 

Singing a love song to Connor as the night sky turned pink, tipsy on sangria and surrounded by the warmth of people who knew and accepted each other.

 

“That makes sense,” says Evan quietly. He smiles at Charles. “I’m glad you have them. They’re… they’re good people.”

 

Charles nods. “That they are.”

 

* * *

 

The moment Gus gets it into his head that he has to ‘warm the house’, Connor finds himself in the middle of helping plan a party for probably the first time in his entire life. Gus is enthusiastic but busy with his new business, so the majority of the planning has been passed over to a bewildered Connor.

 

Gus isn’t exactly picky but he has all sorts of weird ideas. Somewhere along the line, he starts talking about the ‘tiny sausages’ and Connor has no idea where the fuck you get the tiny sausages, so he calls Donna and she volunteers to get that sorted. Connor’s figured out that he needs to get balloons and donuts and sangria and garlic bread and decides that as well as that, he’s just going to buy a fuckton of alcohol and order pizzas and have at it.

 

People start arriving in the middle of the afternoon. Donna and Lucas show up first and Donna starts making sangria while Connor cooks garlic bread and Gus puts on a playlist of upbeat songs that he likes. When Reed and Chiv arrive, an already slightly tipsy Gus tells Reed that they must dance with him, and from then on in it’s a weird but endearing party.

 

Torpedo shows up with cookies from Jenny and Beanpole’s brought gin and tonic water and hummus, for some reason. Beanpole’s still a little a bit of a mystery to Connor, but he likes him, and Gus is absolutely thrilled to see him, pulling him into such an enthusiastic hug that it almost knocks his glasses off.

 

Gus is having another glass of sangria and checking his phone when his face grows sad for a moment, and Connor immediately frowns. “What’s up?”

 

“Evan will not come,” says Gus sadly. “I understand this, but I would like for him to be here.”

 

Connor feels his heart plummet a little. He’d hoped…

 

“Are Dad and Heidi coming?” Connor asks. “If they’re coming, then maybe Evan will change is mind.”

 

“Dad says he is too old for party, and he and Heidi are having dinner together tonight,” Gus explains. He finishes his glass of sangria then pours another one and grabs a donut.

 

So that means Evan’s alone tonight, Connor thinks to himself.

 

He eats some pizza, watches as Gus and Reed have some kind of weird dance off, and tries to distract himself from thoughts of Evan.

 

Connor thinks about Evan’s bookshelf, full of Connor’s books. About how he read all of them. Just to know Connor.

 

About how he worked so hard to save Connor and his brothers.

 

How he lost himself and nearly died.

 

How much Evan wanted to die.

 

He shouldn’t be alone tonight.

 

He just shouldn’t.

 

Connor quietly leaves Gus’s apartment and gets into his car. It takes nearly half an hour to get to Evan’s apartment. As he gets out of his car, he notices that he’s parked in almost the exact same spot he was parked the night he was taken by DYAD.

 

The night Zoe found out.

 

The night it all started to fall apart.

 

He heads up the stairs and knocks on the door of Evan’s apartment. Evan opens the door and just stares at Connor for a long moment, eyes wide.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

Evan looks like he might shut the door in Connor’s face for a moment, but then nods and holds the door open a little more. Connor comes in and turns to face Evan.

 

He’s reminded of that night he came to Evan’s apartment at four in the morning, furious and hurt that he was being ignored, that Evan was keeping his distance. He thinks about Evan’s tired admission that he wasn’t staying away because he didn’t care, he was staying away because he cared too much.

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor blurts out. “I’m sorry that I said I never wanted to see you again. I didn’t mean it.”

 

Evan blinks, and looks at his shoes. “I’m sorry for everything,” he says quietly. “You were… you were right. Everything you said about me that night was true.”

 

Connor shakes his head. “No. No, it was… some of it was true but some of it was just… some of it was just cruel, and I said it to be cruel, and I’m sorry.”

 

Evan’s the one to shake his head now. “Just because it was cruel doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. I get it. I… I know how much I messed up, Connor, and I’m so, so, so sorry. I got your parents killed. You and Zoe both have every right to hate me and I just have to deal with that, you know?”

 

“I don’t hate you,” Connor admits. “I… fuck, I really don’t hate you, Evan. I hate what you let DYAD twist you into but I don’t hate you.” He crosses his arms protectively in front of his chest. “I can understand if you hate me. I was… I was cruel.”

 

“I could never hate you,” says Evan, his voice almost breaking. “I meant what I said in the note. I meant it. I will always love you, but I know that doesn’t make up for it.”

 

“I love you, too,” says Connor quietly. “I… yeah, I’m pretty sure on that. It’s… I love you so fucking much, and I hate that you hurt me and you betrayed me and you let my brother, my twin be tortured to save me and…” Connor takes a deep breath and tries to keep himself calm because he’s not here to freak out, he’s here to…

 

He’s got no idea what the fuck he’s doing here.

 

“I wish I could make what happened go away,” says Evan, his voice soft and full of regret. “I wish I could go back and change everything. I’d have… fuck, I’d have done so many things differently, I made so many mistakes and I lost so many people because of it. I… I lost my best friend and my boyfriend and I just have to live with my mistakes and it hurts so fucking much. Sometimes it hurts so much I can’t breathe.” He sighs. “And so many people just… hate me. And they’re right to, and I have to just… let them feel what they feel.”

 

“I don’t hate you,” says Connor again.

 

Evan looks at his shoes. “Your sister does. She should hate me. And so should you.”

 

“Maybe,” Connor admits. “But I don’t.” He looks at Evan, trying to make sure he’s being clear with his words. “Gus doesn’t hate you either.”

 

Evan smiles. “Gus is… Gus is fucking incredible.”

 

“Gus is incredible,” Connor agrees with a sense of pride.

 

Evan’s smile drops. “You’re missing his party.”

 

Connor nods and puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. I just… I didn’t want you to be alone.”

 

Evan takes a slight step forward. Connor’s not even sure if he realizes he’s doing it. “Is that the only reason you’re here? So I’m not alone?”

 

“Probably not,” Connor admits, taking a deliberate step forward.

 

Evan blinks and Connor thinks he’s trying not to cry. “I miss you.”

 

Saying ‘I miss you too’ sounds too simplistic for what Connor’s feeling right now, but he says it anyway. “I miss you so fucking much.”

 

“I know I don’t deserve it,” says Evan, his voice sad. “But I just… can we be friends? Try to get past the… the weirdness and the hurt and...”

 

Evan’s struggling for words and Connor wants, very badly, to just close the distance between them, but it’s a terrible idea because so much has happened and they both have so much healing to do and just because they love each other, doesn’t mean that everything will be magically fixed. So Connor just nods. “Yeah. Friends sounds good.”

 

“You should go back to the party,” says Evan firmly. “Gus will be wondering where you are.”

 

Connor nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

 

“Drive safe, okay?”

 

Connor moves to the door of Evan’s apartment and looks at the door handle for a moment.

 

His heart is pounding in his chest.

 

“Fuck it,” he mutters, then strides back to where Evan is standing and pulls him into a kiss.

 

Evan seems surprised at first but it doesn’t take long until he responds, and they kiss until Connor’s lungs burn and he pulls away to take a breath and he can’t tell if it’s his heart or Evan’s that’s making all that noise. Evan’s crying, but he’s smiling, and Connor might be crying too, and Evan reaches up and touches Connor’s face and then they’re kissing again, and it’s like electricity and an elevator plummeting to the ground floor and the sun rising warm in the early morning.

 

“This might be a bad idea,” Evan warns quietly when they finally pull apart.

 

“I love you,” Connor says simply.

 

Evan smiles. “I love you, too.”

 

 _I love you_ doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t magically make things better. But Connor thinks it could maybe be a new beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and say hi at oneofakindfic.tumblr.com :)


	100. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clone Club vacation, July 2023.

It’s been a scorching hot summer but jumping straight into the lake on the edge of Reed’s aunt’s lake house is still a bit of a shock to the system. Torpedo’s the first one in. He runs along the dock and cannonballs right in, then moments later pops his head above the water and starts swearing about how cold the water is.

 

Connor remembers being afraid that Torpedo wouldn’t make it to summer at the clones’ 21st birthday party.

 

Now it’s July 2023 and Torpedo’s just grabbed Connor by his ankles and pulled him into the lake fully clothed and he can’t even bring himself to be that pissed off.

 

Torpedo’s alive and healthy. They’re all alive and healthy.

 

Connor’s just so fucking grateful.

 

(He’s definitely getting back at Torpedo for his lake stunt, though.)

 

It’s been a logistical nightmare to get everyone together, but they’ve managed to do it. A week at the lake house, full of food and drinks and karaoke and board games and swimming and long walks and sunsets.

 

A week with his family. The whole weird lot of them. Well, the ones who could make it. Seamus and Heidi bowed out, saying something about not wanting to ruin the groove. Personally, Connor thinks that a. they want some time to themselves and b. Seamus doesn't want to be browbeat into singing. 

 

“I’ve made sangria!” calls out Donna from the lake house. “You’ll have to come out to the porch if you want some, I’m not floating it out to you.”

 

“What kind of service is that?” Torpedo jokes, splashing Connor and heading to the dock for sangria.

 

Lucas and Donna are getting married in September, and Lucas seems to be panicking over the wedding details more than Donna, to be perfectly honest. Lucas’s parents seem to have decided that even if they don’t necessarily think that Donna’s the perfect match for their son, they’re still going to have a wedding that’s the envy of all their rich friends. However, Lucas’s parents seem to have also completely underestimated Donna’s ability to get what she wants.

 

Connor’s been subjected to many long rants about the wedding planning from Lucas and has found it really fucking difficult not to laugh, because it all just seems so completely insane to him.

 

Donna’s parents are more or less letting Lucas’s family have their say on the wedding ceremony and even the reception. They’re planning a big family shindig the day after the wedding that’s going to be much more in line with what Lucas and Donna actually want. What’s more, all of Clone Club are invited.

 

Lucas’s parents still don’t know he’s a clone.

 

Lucas has said to Connor, point blank, that they don’t need to.

 

When Connor gets to dry land, Evan’s there with a towel, shaking his head with a smile on his face. He’s got sunscreen that’s not fully rubbed in on his nose, so Connor reaches out to rub it in and Evan swats his hand away.

 

“Hands off until you’re dry,” he says firmly, handing Connor the towel.

 

“Hey, I didn’t _ask_ to be pulled into the lake,” says Connor, taking the towel.

 

Evan just raises his eyebrows. “I honestly don’t know what you were expecting.

 

“You’re not going for a swim?” Connor asks as he dries off the best he can. Evan’s in board shorts and t-shirt and could conceivably actually be dressed for swimming.

 

“Maybe later,” Evan replies with a shrug. He holds up the book in his hand. “I’m thinking I’ll just chill on the porch with some sangria and read for a bit.”

 

Connor steals a quick kiss then follows Evan back to the porch and helps himself to some sangria. Donna’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses and laughs at the sight of him. “You were the one who hung out on the dock with Torpedo,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

 

Connor flips her off, then heads upstairs to the bedroom he and Evan are sharing to get changed. Before he heads back outside, he decides to head to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

 

Instead, he’s greeted with the sight of Reed and Chiv making out. Reed’s got Chiv pressed up against the fridge and Connor sighs. “Food is prepared in this room,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Take it somewhere else, horndogs.”

 

“Now you know how it feels,” Reed replies, not missing a beat. Chiv turns a little pink, but doesn’t look even slightly apologetic.

 

Connor grabs a muffin and gets out of there as soon as he can.

 

Reed’s going to grad school in the fall, while working at ERAS part-time. They’ve been at ERAS since the beginning, and are absolutely thriving. Chiv’s working at ERAS, too, although in a slightly different capacity - he’s one of the heads of security because he’s someone that Beanpole trusts.

 

Trust goes a long way with Clone Club these days.

 

Reed and Chiv’s relationship is a bit of a mystery to Connor. They haven’t exactly been on and off, per say, but they’ve both dated other people while still seeing each other. Connor doesn’t have a great handle on it, but he knows that right now they’re both dating a girl called Rita. He hasn’t met Rita because Rita doesn’t know about the clones but Reed and Chiv have both been thinking about telling her.

 

Connor is pretty sure polyamory isn’t for him, but he knows Reed well enough to know that they’ve always had a good handle on what they want, and if this is what makes them happy, Connor’s all for it.

 

He heads out into the dining room and Beanpole’s sitting at the table on his laptop. Connor sighs.

 

Typical Beanpole.

 

When Beanpole relocated to Boston, it took him a little while to fully integrate into Clone Club. Not because he wasn’t welcome, but because when he’s not doing ridiculously high stakes things like destroying multi-billion dollar corporations from the inside out, he’s actually a very quiet, very unassuming, very shy and bumbling kind of guy. Compared to some of the stronger personalities in Clone Club, Beanpole kind of blends into the background.

 

Then again, Connor’s learned not to judge by appearances by now. Because Beanpole is utterly brilliant, and not just in terms of intelligence. He’s also very, very good at getting things done. ERAS is now established in over 40 countries across the world, built from the ashes of the DYAD Institute.

 

The ESM had moved quickly and efficiently as DYAD crumbled, sharing strategic research as leverage to get the science community paying attention. Connor doesn’t know much about it, but what he does know is that plenty of investors into DYAD found out pretty quickly which way the wind was blowing and jumped ship to ERAS after all the scandals.

 

Beanpole’s plans for ERAS have turned out to be pretty different from the way DYAD did things, as far as Connor can tell. Beanpole’s on a board of directors with other ESM members around the world and they’re committed to keeping their research transparent and providing learning opportunities. Reed, Hannah and Evan published a paper on their research on the clone illness and the cure, which has been praised as a breakthrough in treating a range of neurodegenerative diseases.

 

As for the clone illness itself, Ivy and Parker have been traveling around the world, finding clones and giving them the cure. It took a while to organize things. Connor hadn’t been aware, but apparently, Ivy had done most of her research on the cure while dealing with a serious cocaine addiction. Beanpole had been adamant that if she wanted a future with ERAS, she had to go through rehab and get clean.

 

Ivy’s been drug-free for over a year now. She and Parker are also engaged. Connor still thinks it’s really fucking weird because Ivy’s nearly fifteen years older than the clones, but they seem happy, and he doesn’t really know them well enough to judge.

 

He likes the idea that the cure is out there for his fellow clones, though.

 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be working,” says Connor, taking a seat next to Beanpole. “Evan said that Tina cleared your schedule so you could take a vacation with us.”

 

“She did,” says Beanpole, his ears going a little pink. “I just wanted to check my email to see if there was…” He trails off as his ears go even pinker and his cheeks go pink, too.

 

Connor grins. “Any particular reason you’re blushing?”

 

“I most certainly am not blushing,” says Beanpole, blushing even more. “Tina just sent me a message telling me I’m to go back to my holiday.” He shuts his laptop and clears his throat. “Right. I might go for a dip in the lake, then.”

 

“Good way to cool down since your receptionist has you all hot and bothered,” says Connor with a smirk.

 

Beanpole’s eyes widen, he blushes even more and then heads up the stairs, saying something about getting his ‘swimming trunks’. Connor chuckles.

 

“You’re awful,” says Hannah. Connor turns to see her and Zoe coming in from the living room, having clearly caught the tail end of Connor and Beanpole’s conversation.

 

“It’s been two years,” Connor points out with a roll of his eyes. “Two fucking years and he’s still blushing when anyone mentions Tina. I swear, next time I’m at ERAS I’ll just lock them in a closet or something.”

 

“Not everyone’s as fucking impatient as you are,” says Zoe, obviously irritated. “And it’s none of your damn business anyway.”

 

“I just want him to be happy,” says Connor honestly.

 

“And I’m sure he appreciates that,” says Hannah reasonably. “But you’ve got to let people do things in their own time.”

 

A haunted look comes over Zoe’s face, and Hannah turns pale and she looks at the floor. Connor’s heart plummets just a little. He knows they’re all thinking the same thing.

 

After their parents died, Zoe had a hard time dealing. A really, really fucking hard time dealing. Zoe blamed Evan for their deaths, hated Connor for getting back together with him, and things kind of spiraled out of control for a while. She’d dropped out of school, dumped Hannah, partied hard to keep her mind off things…  

 

It had scared the living shit out of Connor. Like, properly terrified him. He’d been out of his mind with worry about Zoe and had a hard time dealing with the fact that she didn’t want anything to do with him. Refused to let him help. Told him they weren’t family at all. They weren’t anything to each other.

 

If it hadn’t been for Gus, Connor’s not sure what would have happened. Zoe had finally reached out to Gus and with his help, worked through things.

 

Slowly.

 

Really, really fucking slowly.

 

It had taken a really, really long time.

 

Connor knows he’s not the most patient person in the world, but he also knows that there are things worth waiting for. Things aren’t perfect between him and Zoe, by any stretch of the imagination. Zoe and Evan still struggle to be in the same room as each other. It’s going to take time. And Connor hates it when things take time.

 

But Zoe’s _here._

 

Zoe’s here for Clone Club vacation.

 

It’s a big deal. It’s a really, really big fucking deal.

 

Connor wants to tell his sister that he loves her. “You know I’m an impatient asshole,” he says instead.

 

The corner of Zoe’s mouth curves into a small smile. “I know.”

 

Hannah kind of looks between the two of them, then smiles a little cautiously. Hannah’s needed time as well. It took a long time for Zoe and Hannah to rekindle their relationship and Connor’s beyond glad they’re back together. He likes Hannah. He likes Hannah a lot. He thinks they’re good together.

 

He can see that they really fucking love each other.

 

Zoe and Hannah disappear upstairs, and Connor heads out back to the porch, where Gus and Pampushka are returning from a walk. Gus is on his phone and his eyes brighten as he sees Connor, but he keeps talking.

 

“I understand, but I am not there. Darla knows how to do this. You must ask her.” There’s a pause. “I am saying you can call when I am on vacation for emergency. This is not an emergency, and I think you know this.” Another pause, and a soft sigh from Gus. “When I return, we can discuss. But Darla knows, and you must let her do her job.” Another pause, then something in Gus’s tone shifts a little. “Alright. When I return, we have meeting. You and I and Zoe.” Gus grins a little at the pause. “You are not wanting meeting with Zoe? Okay. You will work with Darla then. Very good. Have good week.” He ends the call and looks at Connor, then rolls his eyes. “Sorry. Is the business.”

 

“It’s tough being a man of business,” says Connor, slinging his arm around his twin’s shoulder affectionately.

 

Gus’s dog grooming business took off like a rocket after he moved to Boston. The combination of his warm personality and his genuine love of dogs meant that he had plenty of customers, especially once he moved to a more populated area. But as much as Gus loved dog grooming, he’d often said to Connor that his dream job would be to play with dogs all day.

 

So it wasn’t really a surprise when Gus started up a doggy daycare business. What was a bit of a surprise, however, was that Zoe was his business partner. Zoe had inherited a ridiculous amount of money after their parents died and had provided the startup capital to get the daycare business started and worked there when it was in its initial stages.

 

Gus and Zoe have had many discussions about finances and even though Gus insists that he’ll pay Zoe back for her investment in the business, Connor’s pretty sure that Zoe won’t let him pay her a single penny. Gus can be plenty stubborn when he wants to, but he’s got nothing on Zoe.

 

Connor’s a little jealous of how much Gus and Zoe like each other. How easily they became family. It’s hard, when sometimes he feels like Zoe can barely stand him. At times when the jealousy gets a bit overwhelming, Connor reminds himself how lucky he is to have both of them in his life.

 

Gus overcame years of torture and brainwashing and was trained to kill when he was just a kid.

 

Zoe spent three years thinking her brother was dead and had both of her parents murdered in less than a week.

 

They’ve both been through so much. In a lot of ways, they’re both lucky to be alive.

 

In a lot of ways, so is Connor.

 

“Darla is in charge while Zoe and I have vacation, and I trust she will take care of all the dogs and all the staff as well,” says Gus with a sigh. “But Gerald does not like Darla, and is calling to ask questions that I know she knows the answer too. He is… undermining, and I do not like this.” Gus looks more than a little irritated, and Pampushka lifts up her head to pets his hand. “I think it is because Darla is a woman. Gerald does not respect her. I do not like this. We will discuss on my return.”

 

“He doesn’t want to have a meeting with Zoe, I hear,” says Connor with a grin.

 

Gus’s face breaks into a grin and he laughs. “I think he is a little bit frightened of Zoe. She does not take shit.”

 

“Zoe’s good like that,” Connor replies fondly. “She’ll sort out this Gerald asshole.”

 

“I do not think he will last long,” Gus admits. “I will speak with Darla when the vacation is over.” He looks at his phone and presses a button. “But now, I turn phone off. Pampushka and I will have swim. You will join us?”

 

Connor shakes his head. “I’ve already had a swim. By accident.”

 

Gus grins. “Torpedo pulled you in. I saw from other side of the lake. You are very stupid to go on dock with clothes on. What did you expect?”

 

Connor scowls and Gus cracks up laughing. Gus goes to get changed and Connor takes a seat next to Evan on the porch. Evan looks at him, smiles, and takes his hand.

 

Connor looks at his boyfriend and smiles.

 

Evan looks relaxed and calm and happy.

 

It took Evan a long time to come to terms with what had happened and his part in everything. Connor knows that a part of Evan will always blame himself for Larry and Cynthia Murphy’s death. He still struggles with nightmares. There have been many nights where he’s woken up screaming and Connor’s had to calm him down and help him realize he’s safe.

 

Connor’s had his fair share of nightmares, too. He knows what it’s like.

 

It doesn’t mean it’s not hard to watch. There have been many nights where Evan’s managed to fall into an uneasy sleep and Connor’s just… stayed awake, worrying.

 

For a while, he couldn’t see how they were going to get past things. For a while, he wasn’t sure things would ever be okay. Yes, they loved each other, but love doesn’t make suicidal thoughts go away. Love doesn’t stop nightmares. Love doesn’t bring dead parents back and fix relationships that are broken beyond all hope of repair.

 

It breaks Connor’s heart a little that Evan and Zoe will probably never be friends again. Not the way they were. He knows it breaks Evan’s heart, even though Evan doesn’t like to talk about it. He knows how angry and betrayed Zoe felt, and knows she wouldn’t have felt like that if she didn’t care. It’s hard that two of the people he loves most in the universe find it hard to be around each other.

 

But Connor can’t change that. He just has to give it time.

 

Connor and Evan are both still in therapy, and probably will be for a long time. Getting back together hadn’t been smooth sailing, and they’ve done a lot of counseling, both together and apart. It’s hard work, but it’s worth it.

 

It’s so worth it.

 

Evan’s been working with ERAS for 2 years now and he’s just finished his undergrad degree. He’ll be attending grad school in the fall and has plans to eventually work toward his Ph.D. Evan worked with Beanpole a lot when ERAS was first starting up and together, they talked a lot about what ERAS wanted to achieve.

 

While Beanpole’s passionate about research and discovery being done in an ethical way, Evan’s passionate about learning and discovery. As ERAS continues to grow, Evan’s done a lot of teaching, and it turns out he’s really fucking good at it. He likes explaining things, he likes helping people, he likes connecting with people and he likes learning. It’s a good fit for him and Connor’s glad to see him succeed.

 

“You guys are gross,” says Torpedo cheerfully as he sits down beside Connor. He hands Connor a bowl full of M&Ms, and he takes a handful then passes them to Evan, who just shakes his head.

 

The bowl of M&Ms sits between Torpedo and Connor, and Connor thinks about how fucking glad he is that Torpedo’s alive.

 

Torpedo still lives in his mom’s basement, and Connor’s never going to let him forget that. He’s making a shitload of money doing some kind of weird software gaming stuff, though, so he’s not doing too badly for himself. He’s happy, he’s healthy and he’s doing what he loves.

 

It’s good to see Torpedo. He hadn’t made it to last year’s Clone Club vacation because he’d decided to backpack across Europe last summer. Connor had laughed for a solid minute when Torpedo announced that was what he was doing, because he honestly thought it was a joke. Torpedo very rarely left his room. Why would he want to backpack across Europe for a whole three months?

 

Once Connor stopped laughing, Torpedo had admitted, kind of sheepishly, that he’d been doing a lot of thinking in the year since the clone cure was found. He’d spent a whole year thinking he could die any day. That had taken its toll. He’d been seeing a counselor as well and somehow, the topic of travel had come up, and… well, it had stuck with Torpedo for some reason.

 

So he bought a ticket to London, bought a backpack and set out for an adventure. Torpedo had taken a lot of photos and sent a lot of postcards. He’d also, unsurprisingly, run into a few people with their face.

 

The total number of clones encountered over the 3 months Torpedo was in Europe? 13.

 

Connor still doesn’t know how many of them there are in total but it’s frankly ridiculous.

 

When Torpedo got back in September, sunburned and exhausted by happy,  he’d ended up with a full other suitcase full of souvenirs and gifts, including a huge pile of books in Ukrainian for Gus. Gus had cried for nearly half an hour, he was so happy.

 

Connor and Gus are planning to go to Europe together next summer. Just the two of them. They’re going to see Ireland where they should have grown up. They’re going to visit the monastery where Gus spent the first 8 years of his life.

 

They’ll see a whole lot more, Connor’s sure, but those are the things he thinks are most important.

 

“How’s the book coming along?” Torpedo asks Connor with a grin.

 

Connor groans and from the other side of him, Evan chuckles. “I should never have told any of you assholes I was writing a book,” Connor grumbles.

 

“Because now you have to actually write it?” asks Evan, fake innocently.

 

“Fuck offfff.”

 

Connor has been out of college for a year. After graduating, he moved to Boston and he and Evan found their own place, not too far from where Gus lives. While Evan finished his degree (having taken more time off than Connor after the whole DYAD mess), Connor got some work doing freelance copywriting online and started working on his first novel.

 

When he gave Gus some chapters to read, Gus enthusiastically told Connor it reminded him of Star Wars, much to Connor’s dismay. He’s not writing science fiction, for fuck’s sake. His life is science fiction enough.

 

The book is coming along, but it’s hard work and it’s taking a lot of time, and Connor’s not patient. He kind of just wants it to be done - just magically appear on the page, fully formed the way he imagines it in his head. Unfortunately, it’s not quite that easy.

 

Writing involves a lot of staring at an empty document and cursing your own existence. But there are moments where Connor’s writing and everything flows and he’s putting words together in a way that makes his heart sing and it’s fucking cheesy, but… it’s what he wants to be doing. Even if no one else ever reads a word he’s written, it’s what he wants to be doing.

 

If he ever gets his book published, he’s already got a pen name picked.

 

Dorian Sadler.

 

Someone he might have been.

 

He’s still not sure exactly who he is. Since graduating, there are less and less people who call him Ben, but he still feels like Ben Childs is in there, somewhere. He wonders what Ben would be like if he’d lived, if Ben would have found peace and comfort in this weird family he and his clones have found.

 

Ben’s parents have stopped contacting him altogether, bar the occasional email to say hi, and Connor can’t say he really cares. He wishes they’d been there for Ben. Maybe if they’d been there, Ben would still be here.

 

But they’re nothing to him.

 

Connor thinks about Ben more than he cares to admit.

 

He doesn’t know if he believes in an afterlife, but if it exists, he hopes that Ben’s at peace.

 

He hopes that everyone they’ve lost is at peace.

 

As the sun starts to set, Donna starts fiddling around with an extension cord and Connor cracks up laughing as she sees Lucas bringing the karaoke machine out onto the porch. “Oh no,” he says dramatically. “It’s starting.”

 

A soaking wet Pampushka and Gus emerge from the lake. Gus laughs as Pampushka shakes herself dry, and goes to pick up some towels from the dock. He dries Pampushka before drying himself, then heads upstairs and comes back soon after, fully dressed in a soft flannel shirt and jeans, practically bouncing with excitement. “I look forward to the karaoke,” he announces cheerfully.

 

“We’ll do a duet,” promises Donna, and Connor can see Lucas trying not to wince.

 

The porch fills with the rest of Clone Club, and Donna starts the night off with a soulful rendition of… something Connor doesn’t recognize. Connor looks around to see the rest of the group. Hannah looks impressed by Donna’s vocal skills and Zoe’s leaning her head on her shoulder. Reed and Chiv are making out in the corner and Torpedo’s throwing popcorn at them. Gus and Pampushka are kind of curled up on the floor, Gus grinning at Donna, and Evan moves his chair closer to Connor then takes his hand again.

 

Once Donna’s finished her first song, she hands the microphone to an utterly astonished Beanpole, who kind of stammers for a while then looks through the songs. He adjusts his glasses, clears his throat, then grins.

 

And launches into a flawless rendition of The Bad Touch by The Bloodhound Gang, to absolute howls of laughter from the entire group.

 

Donna makes more and more sangria as the evening progresses, along with a huge range of snacks and piles and piles of garlic bread and donuts. Zoe manages to get a slightly tipsy Hannah to duet with her on some Tegan and Sara, which has Reed rolling their eyes and muttering something about cliched lesbians, which in turn has Zoe daring Reed to get up and sing themself. Reed counters with something by Bjork, then drags up Chiv to launch into some truly ridiculous K-Pop, and Torpedo sings some Third Eye Blind, and Zoe and Gus sing something from High School Musical that Connor thinks might actually make his eardrums explode.

 

Then Connor’s handed the microphone and he’s had a lot to drink and he can’t quite help the words that are coming out of his mouth. “Okay okay okay,” he slurs, holding his glass of sangria to the sky. “I think we need to have a toast.”

 

There’s a round of cheers and people start filling their glasses. “To Clone Club vacation!” Donna yells, and Connor grins.

 

“Not just vacation,” he says into the microphone. “To Clone Club in general. It’s… god, it’s just a fucking trip, and we’ve all been through hell but… we have each other and I’m drunk and this is cheesy, but… I love all of you weirdos.”

 

Reed gets to their feet and pulls Connor into a hug. It takes a moment for Connor to realize that Torpedo’s gotten in on it as well. “You’re such a sap,” says Torpedo, but Connor can tell that he’s drunk and emotional as well.

 

“I think we should toast to the people we’ve lost,” Connor says suddenly. He looks at Zoe and raises his glass. “To Cynthia and Larry Murphy. Zoe’s parents.” He swallows. “My parents.”

 

Zoe stares right at Connor and for a moment he’s afraid he’s said the wrong thing, but she raises her glass in the air. “To Mom and Dad.”

 

The night air is silent, except for the sounds of clinking glasses.

 

“To those we lost to the clone illness,” says Torpedo. The microphone’s been put down by now. Everyone’s listening. “Heath. Jacob. Tommy.”

 

“Douglas,” says Evan quietly, raising his glass.

 

“Lachlan, Alan, Emil,” Beanpole adds, raising his glass.

 

“And all the others,” says Torpedo, blinking back tears.

 

They all clink their glasses.

 

“To Yorick,” says Evan, his voice shaky but firm.

 

Glasses clink, but nothing else is said.

 

Connor holds his glass up. “To Ben,” he says firmly. “For bringing us all together.”

 

“To Ben,” everyone says together. They clink their glasses and they drink and Connor thinks of the boy with his face, sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night, waiting to die.

 

He thinks about how he wanted to die that night.

 

How if he’d died that night, he’d have missed out on all of this.

 

All of it.

 

The good and the bad.

 

The good is just… so much better than he could ever have imagined.

 

Connor sits down and Donna launches into a disco number, which brings the energy of the night back up, much to everyone’s relief. Zoe drags both Connor and Gus up to dance with her, and soon the chairs are being pushed to the back so that the whole group of them can dance.

 

The night air is warm and fragrant. The sky is full of a million stars.

 

There will be so many more nights like this one.

 

Connor’s ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually tearing up a little bit that this is over, guys. I have loved every single minute of writing this weird little universe and I'm so, so, so glad I got to share this journey with all of you. Whether you've been reading from the beginning or you've come along later, thank you. Thank you so much. 
> 
> I haven't done this alon! Both chchchchcherrybomb and nosecoffee have written fics in the universe and have made it all so much richer. I appreciate it more than I can say. Thank you a million times!
> 
> A huge, monumental, completely all-encompassing thank you to Tess, aka chchchchcherrybomb for all their help with this universe. Tess, you've been SO MUCH HELP over this entire process and I love you. Thank you for helping me bounce ideas, for creating Hannah, for encouraging me and supporting me and just being the best person ever. I love you. 
> 
> Keep your eye out for more fics in the One of a Kind universe! There are more coming from other authors and I've got a few up my sleeve, so be sure to subscribe to the series so you know when new ones pop up. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading. Every time you eat donuts, I hope you think of Gus.


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